


The Lifespan of the Sickle Ibis

by sometimesimeow



Series: Tales of Snow and Madness [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha Robert Baratheon, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Boypussy, Breeding Kink, Cheating, Choking, Dubious Consent, Incest, Infidelity, Intersex, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Stannis Baratheon, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy Kink, Rape Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rare Pairings, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Size Kink, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimesimeow/pseuds/sometimesimeow
Summary: In one timeline, Stannis Baratheon is the prince that was promised, fighting in a war as a contender for the Iron Throne. He was the rightful king there, and no one knew it or they didn't care. In this world, he is an omega. And in a world, where omegas are little more than political tools and breeding mares, Stannis is the object of lust for his older brother, and the whipping boy for gods he does not believe in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I received a lot of requests for this story, and I was truly intrigued. I really wanted to write a 'what-if' situation and thus, this was born. So for those of you who have not read the other parts in the Tales of Snow and Madness series, I recommend it but it's not necessary. This is an alternate ABO universe (without the B) where Stannis is an omega and Robert is an alpha, asking what would happen if Robert acted upon his lust for his brother.
> 
> *Chapter 1 was edited as of 10/18/2019 in which two additional scenes were added.

Stannis Baratheon was born to be his brother’s keeper.

That was the theory whispered around Storm’s End. They were born a year barely apart, and Robert was by no means an easy babe. He cried and fussed and threw tantrums as well as toys. When Stannis was born, his temperament improved by miles. Maybe it was the presence of an omega, or maybe it was the companionship—the Baratheon would later see how prone to loneliness their eldest son was, but his sleep-deprived mother and father well appreciated Stannis' presence.

Their reliance on their second son carried throughout their sons’ childhood. While the two were busy governing their kingdoms, Stannis kept Robert company. If Stannis was happy, Robert found a game for them to play. If he were studying, Robert would steal the scrolls out and burn them. If he ignored him, as Stannis so often did when Robert’s behavior evolved from an annoyance to antagonism, Robert would do something so despicable; it would leave the younger Baratheon running into his room in either anger or tears. Whether in joy or sorrow, Stannis lived for his brother. Things didn’t change when they got older, not even when additional responsibilities were given to them. Robert just got more creative. While Stannis had his sewing and his lessons and his riding, and Robert was left to his swordsmanship and war courses, Robert managed to find a way to make himself his brother’s world again. He had Stannis take his lessons alongside him, so when Robert wasn’t allowed to spend time with the friends he met in combat, cousins, and fellow lordlings, he still had someone beside him. When Robert was slacking, he made sure Stannis was aware so the boy could drop everything to motivate him. It comforted Robert to know that on a rainy day, or in a hole filled with fallen plans, Stannis was there with shelter and a ladder.

The only downfall was the extent to which Robert became Stannis’ duty. The second son could be a nag at the worst of times. At his best, Stannis was a vigilant soul, one who was meticulous about the wellbeing of those who surround him. Robert grew up listening to his brother’s whines while their cribs neighbored against each other and became worse when the words came when his cries became pointed criticism.

A few days before Robert was supposed to make his departure to the Eyrie, Robert went to their private spot on the beach and laid down, listening to the waves and smelling the breeze as it mixed with the pines of the nearby forest. He loved this scent. Robert Baratheon was a stormland’s boy, true and through, and he preferred the rugged outdoors of his ancestral lands over an urban shithole any day. Thank goodness, his father got him a fostering at the Eyrie instead of King’s Landing or some other sewage-filled municipal.

Regardless, he didn’t want to think about the move at all. It wasn’t that Robert didn’t want to go—he was a natural-born traveler, just like his father, and he looked forward to seeing Lord Arryn again.

But he wasn’t prepared to leave.

Literally. 

Robert had put off packing for the last few weeks, charming the maids to do the task while he lounged around and spent his final hours at Storm’s End playing with his friends. He wasn’t quite finished with everything, and he hadn’t gotten around to the checklist his father insisted on performing before he departed. If Robert waited long enough, his father would have given up; he may have provided a spanking or two for the trouble, would nonetheless have the steward complete the task for his eldest son. The insolent plan could have worked, probably would have if it weren’t for Stannis running to the beach, scolding him for not getting his act together.

“You’re supposed to be getting ready, Robert!”

Robert rolled his eyes. He got up from his place of sunbathing to look at his younger brother. Stannis was not fully clothed, which made Robert believe his discovery was serendipitous. He probably had come only for a swim and spotted his brother in the process.

Robert went back to his resting position. He could hear Stannis’ frustration as the second son stomped his foot and ran over. The heir grinned.

“I’m just relaxing. I’ll get to my tasks eventually.”

“No, you won’t,” Stannis refuted. “You’re waiting until it’s too late and father will have someone do it for you.”

Robert almost laughed. Instead, he pretended to be offended. “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m going to be the lord of Storm’s End, you know. You have to obey me.”

“It’s because you’re going to be my lord, that I speak to you like this. You’re going to be fostered at the Eyrie. Lord Arryn won’t stand this foolery as father has.”

Robert rolled his eyes. He remembered the old lord and how the man poured his praise onto him. The man was desperate to be a father figure, and Robert would provide a fine fantasy. 

“Give it a rest, Stannis,” Robert ordered. “My time is running out here. I want to enjoy my final hours.”

Stannis rolled his eyes. “You’re going to the Eyrie to be fostered, not dying. Get up and go back to the castle and complete your work.”

Robert got up as commanded, but after he walked past Stannis, he stopped. He saw that Stannis was heading into the water instead of following him.

“Are you coming?”

His little brother scoffed. “I’m not the one who neglected his duties. I can have fun.”

‘Fun’ was not a word Robert ever wanted to attribute to his brother, especially not without his presence involved. Robert quickly turned back to face him. “Come with me.”

Stannis glanced at him, and much to Robert’s outrage, he stepped back into the water.

“Stannis!” Robert yelled. “Get back here.”

“I came here for a swim. You’re leaving Robert; you can’t continue to order me around like a servant.” Stannis went further into the water.

“You’re not supposed to swim alone,” Robert told him, far weaker after Stannis caught him off guard with his defiance. He hoped reason would work on Stannis; it usually did.

“I’m the strongest swimmer in our family. I’ll be fine.” Stannis was already waist-deep.

Robert clenched his fist. He started marching towards the water, and when Stannis saw him drawing near, his eyes widened. He tried to get in deeper as if the water would protect him the further it went, but he was too slow. Robert lunged at him until the two were submerged in water. The brothers wrestled in the sea, their limbs flopping about like wetcloths in a wash bin with the occasional arm reaching the surface before being brought down to hold one another. Family fights were notoriously brutal, and Robert was never one to spare the jugular. Stannis did not make it easy, either; with Robert’s encouragement, he was taking as many combat lessons as alphas twice his age. Both children have not undergone puberty, meaning the two should have been equally matched regardless of their statuses. But despite Stannis’ formidable size for an omega, Robert was still taller and stronger, and he quickly got the upper hand as he dragged his little brother by the collar and threw him on the sand. Robert followed it up by straddling his hips. He tried to grab onto his arms, but that was considerably harder.

“Let go of me!” Stannis protest as he flung his limbs.

“No!”

Stannis spat the remaining seawater in his throat at him. “You’re an idiot! Jerk! Stupid alpha!”

“And you’re a stupid omega!” Robert shouted, high and pitchy and childish, but still very much an alpha.

“I hate you!”

Robert glared at him. He threw Stannis on the ground so harshly the sand may have bruised him. “One day I’m going to be the Lord of Storm’s End, and you’re going to be _my omega_ and _my property_. You have to do what I say!”

“Or what?” Stannis challenged.

“—You do as I say, or I’ll! I’ll!” Robert tripped over his own words before settling onto a common phrase he heard the other boys use to threaten disobedient omegas. “Or I’ll rape you! I’ll rape your cunt and take you for myself so you can’t ever marry!”

Stannis stopped struggling after the declaration. He looked at his oldest brother in horror, and the fear gave Robert the opportunity to grab his wrists and push them onto the sand. When Stannis realized his mistake, he tried to break free, but to no success.

Stannis started shaking, but instead of cowering in defeat, he glared up at Robert. “I won’t miss you,” Stannis hissed. “And I’m glad you’re leaving.”

Robert didn’t know what Stannis expected to happen after making such a vile declaration, but he didn’t seem surprised by the punch. Robert was physical with his emotions; he didn’t like to be bottled up, and Stannis knew this better than anyone. The two of them continued to fight on the sand, with Stannis managed a few kicks in—and one particularly painful knee in the balls. Robert would have been the clear victor if a servant had not passed by and separated them.

The two were given a joint lecture by their mother. After receiving a terrible scolding, Stannis was given extra omega lessons, and Robert was made to do his chores. Neither of them spoke to each other the whole day, or the day after, or the day after the day after. The day Robert left, he waited outside Stannis’ door, hoping to get one last goodbye before he left. When Stannis refused to answer, Robert kicked and pounded at the wooden frame.

“Fine!” Robert shouted after he gave one last hit. “I never want to see you again! Don’t even bother seeing me off!”

Robert received no response.

In the end, Robert left Storm’s End without speaking a word to his little brother. At the beginning of the road, Robert gave one last look at his castle. Stannis was still not there; he did not go running after them like some tragic novel or play. Instead, Stannis watched from their towers above. Their gaze met once, and when it did, Stannis turned away and went back to the castle.

***

Storm’s End was smaller than Robert remembered. He supposed that was to be expected; Robert Baratheon left his home for the Eyrie after eight namedays and a month. When Robert was younger, the justification to visit was great; he missed his home, he missed his family; he missed the food and the land and the people and the love. Over time, he grew the same affection for the Eyrie and then developed a crush for the world, traveling from plain to desert and stream to sea. The visits home became less, and he found other ways to communicate. Once, they took a family trip sailing to foreign ports in _Essos_, or sometimes, they saw each other at a party hosted by one of their primary bannermen. They brought little Renly, who, as a babe, could not be parted from his mother for long, while Stannis stayed home. The last time Robert had seen his mother and father was at a tourney in the Reach. He’d been twelve and had taken the Queen of Love and Beauty’s maidenhead despite her promise to dine with the tourney’s winner.

Today, Robert was fifteen, and it was time for him to return to Storm End’s to begin his training as its future lord. He was inspired to do so by Ned’s departure. The man had lost his mother several months prior and had made the permanent move back to Winterfell to support his family during their grief. Robert was bitter about the change, but he understood it. They were almost grown, and before either of them knew it, both would be manning their holdfasts, attending tourneys and fighting for their honor. But without his best friend and brother, Robert found less appeal in the Eyrie. Over time, the beddings and the adventures became pages in a book instead of a life being lived.

The Eyrie would forever be on etched on his skin, but it would never coarse through his blood. Robert said goodbye to his foster father and promised frequent visitation.

“You will never forget my face,” the storm lordling promised.

Jon Arryn smiled and hugged the boy with great muster. “I will hold you to your words.”

Once Robert finished saying his goodbyes to the fair maids and his brothers in arms, he began his journey to his homeland. The Gods were eager to see Robert in his rightful place, for they made his journey smooth as Dornish wine. After two weeks of travel, bedding broads and wayward virgins, drinking through taverns and singing with the bards, Robert was finally home. He and his men trotted up the hills on their horses in relative leisure, waving to the commonfolk as they passed. He spotted several omegas, many flipping their skirts to reveal their bare cunts, or pulling down their dresses for their breasts to breath. He smiled at them, winked to the fairer few, and for the ones he was sure to bed in his free time, touched as they walked past him. Soon, they treaded up the path that was unfit for casual passengers. Robert turned his head to admire the view, and there he saw a boy sitting on one of the wall seats, overlooking the sea. His frame was sinewy, like a wading bird in the mud rivers, and his shoulders were broad as the full rocks that framed their lands. His dark hair was neatly cut, definitely high born, and there was not a thread of frivolity on his wears. Despite the distance between them, Robert knew this boy was an omega. He was a plain one, of an almost unappealing variety, but he was an omega. Robert kept on staring, and finally, their eyes met. In those blue eyes, Robert received the fiercest glare in his life.

Not even Lyanna Stark rose his cock so fast.

Robert’s distraction led him to neglect his horse, who, without the attention of his owner, trotted a little close to the edge. The creature stumbled, almost knocking its rider off the cliffs. “My lord!” Robert heard them shout. Robert quickly regained control of the reigns and centered the creature to safety.

When Robert looked back up at the castle, the boy was gone.

“Are you alright?” One of his men asked as he moved forward.

Robert nodded. “The beast was just spooked. I am fine.”

He heard another guard laugh. “The beast or the rider?”

Robert snapped his head to the commenter. The man raised his hands in defeat. “I jest! I jest! I saw you looking at your castle. I know that look,” the guard grinned. “Your eyes were following a form.” 

Members of Robert’s party who privy to the conversation burst out into laughter. “Yes, Lord Robert’s prick has gotten him almost killed again!”

“Be it horses or lancers; his hammer will fight them all!”

They erupted into teases and mockery, which Robert took with good stride. He was never one to fall short of a joke whether he was the center of it or not because Robert liked to laugh. He liked pretty maidens and good drink and bad fights, and life. He loved life. As they reached the castle gates, he and his party of a dozen were caroling to the inhabitants.

_“Robert, Robert _

_With a hammer so big_

_Went around smashing_

_ Tree trunks and twigs.”_

_Robert, Robert_

_Had a great appetite_

_His tongue entered honeycombs_

_No matter how tight_

_Though fathers have tried_

_And failed to keep hidden_

_Their lustful wives_

_And sweet storm children!”_

_***_

“Robert!”

Moments after his arrival, his mother’s arms wrapped around Robert like a swatted babe. Cassana Baratheon was not a frail woman by any means, and she towered over many alphas. Despite that, Robert was still able to outsize her by a body and a half. He doubted his mother would ever age. Robert smiled back and kissed her, for he loved his mother, and he thought her the strongest woman in the world.

“I’ve waited all day for your arrival.” She clutched his face. “You’ve gotten so big! My sweet little boy has become a man, and in turn, transformed me into a hag.”

“Never,” Robert promised. She grinned at him when they parted, and it carried the youth of songbird and does. “I’ve missed you more than life, mother.” 

After their reunion, his father followed. Lord Baratheon was a tremendous man with the might of giants and the strength of its babe. He walked over to his son but didn’t greet him at first. Instead, he chooses to give his son a begrudging look. The two faces had several decades of distance, but regardless, they were the spitting image of each other.

The man grimaced. He stared at Robert’s hammer, located firmly at his side like an unweaned child. His father had made for him before he left, hoping the boy would “grow into its glory.”

“I see your green ass is still carrying that hammer. Tell me, have you used it on anyone, or kept to playing by yourself?” 

“I assure you; I have had much practice and many willing sparring partners.” He glanced at his father’s sword. “Though I should not brag, given how rusted your steel has become.”

The two had a standoff. After another half-minute of tension, the Lord of Storm’s End broke, and a great grin appeared on his face. The two embraced each like old friends, and their booming laughs almost threatened the heavens.

“It’s good to have you home, boy.” Steffon Baratheon pulled back to look at his son. Ages ago, Robert could barely meet his waist, and now they saw eye to eye. “You’ve gotten so tall.”

Robert grinned. “I’m still growing. Before long, it’ll be you I call boy.”

His father’s laugh echoed again as he patted his son on the shoulder. “Come, we have much to talk discuss. I heard you’ve become quite the adventurer.” 

“Just like my old man,” Robert agreed. They walked through the halls as Robert and his father shared tales of youth, both new and old. His father spoke freely as if Robert were his brother in arms and not just his son. The Baratheon heir beamed with pride. He was a man now, not just some wading child uncertain of his quality. For every fight in a tavern his father could retell, Robert had a few stories to counter. For every cutthroat and thief who tried to invade his camps, Robert offered a few hands as well. As Robert passed by a giant pot he remembered tumbling inside during a game of hide and seek, he showed off a scar he received in Dorne, when the husband of one of his dalliances caught them in bed together.

“Robert!” His mother scolded. “You didn’t!” 

Robert raised his hands in defeat. “In my defense, I did try to talk the man out of it.”

“Tried?” Lord Baratheon grinned. “So you fought him?"

"Well, I wasn't about to run!" 

"But you won?" 

Robert scoffed. “Have you any doubt? Fucked her a second time in celebration!”

Both men shared a laugh, and despite her disapproval, Cassana could not help but rejoice in the unison of her favorite alphas. She had been waiting for this day for so long, storms seemed like desert rain, and a tundra was a paradise. Condemnation could occur tomorrow, but today her entire family rested beneath a single roof, and nothing could challenge her happiness. Lady Baratheon led them to the dining room, where servants hung the walls and rested on the floors as they rearranged the tables and decorated the ceilings. Robert watched with glee as barrels of wine filled his eyes, and de-feathered birds and seasoned meats were carried to the kitchens on wooden planks. 

“Is there a special occasion?” 

“You oaf,” his mother smacked his arm. You know we would never let you come home without a celebration in hand.” She directed him forward to a seat and ordered a servant to bring them a light meal. “We’ve invited all the houses in the stormlands for your arrival, and of course some recognizable names in the kingdom," Cassana winked. "We even asked the guards to be lenient on the back entrance.”

Robert chuckled. “You do not fear the commonfolk’s presence?” He asked with faux outrage.

“Well, it's no fun without a gatecrasher or two,” Cassana said eagerly, reminding Robert that she was indeed his mother.

Robert was inclined to agree. From behind them, a nursemaid came in holding a toddler. The maid handed over the beautiful, omega boy into Robert’s mother’s arms. She kissed the child and lifted him up over her head, earning happy giggles from the child.

“My darling!” Lady Baratheon kissed his cheek. “Say hello to your big brother!”

Robert stared at the boy with a strained smile. He heard of the boy’s birth through raven but had never met the babe prior to this day. As he stepped forward to touch the boy, the doe reached and cried “Papa!” in the happiest gurgle. Robert ignored the familiarity of the response. He did not mention his own babes crawling across the lands. The talk of bastards was never good for noble company, and though his exploits were well known to his father, his mother may not find his actions so esteemed.

Both his parents laughed at the reaction. "Not 'papa,'" Cassana cooed. "'Robert,' he's your big brother." Cassana smiled at her eldest son. She caressed his face with her free hand, and Robert leaned into it. He missed his mother's touches. "You look so much like your father when he was your age. I can't wait to see you grow into the man he is." 

"Why are you speaking like that? I'm not dead yet!" Steffon let out a mighty guffaw. He gave his wife a high lift with the baby still in her arms. Cassana shrieked, but like her child, it was a sound of excitement. When Steffon put her down, Renly was screaming in delight. Cassana rocked him, commenting on what a big bully her husband was, and trying to 'sway' the child's pity. The babe giggled, soothe by the sounds of her words without understanding the meaning. 

Robert chuckled. He reached out to mess up the boy’s hair, earning an unhappy yelp from the child. He cried a bit following, and the cry turned into a sob, and the sob became a tantrum all within seconds. Cassana sighed and tried to rock him to peace. Eventually, one of the maids handed them a silver rattle, which soothed the child’s love for shiny things.

Steffon chuckled. “He’s a fussy one.”

In other words, Renly was spoiled. It was a good thing he’s pretty, Robert thought, or else his alpha may find him worth a beating. He supposed he had no right to judge—Jon often said he was two handfuls and a bucket of trouble. That was why Ned acted as his shadow; many questioned the two’s friendship, but the sky was not big enough for two suns and Ned was the clouds that kept him from setting the world on fire. With Ned in Winterfell, Robert wondered what to do with his newfound freedom. He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” His mother asked.

Robert shook his head. “I was thinking about Ned,” he answered. “And wondering how I’ll manage without my keeper.”

His father laughed. He slapped his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that; we have Stannis to keep you in line! That boy has a stare that could weaken steel.”

Robert looked around. “Speaking of which, where is my fair brother?”

His mother sent him a look that was scalding. “Robert, be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Robert replied innocently. “Why can I not inquire about the brother I miss?"

“Be careful, Robert. You’re a man now, and I won’t tolerate childish foolishness,” Steffon’s voice, though amicable, held an edge to it. Robert remembered this behavior well. Stannis could helm a thousand ships but would never launch so much as a rowboat. He was a humorless child, often friendless and alone, and his face was the source of much mocking. That was to say—Stannis was not ugly, but his face was not worth looking twice. Robert expected not much has changed given his father’s protectiveness. Robert and Steffon Baratheon were a lot alike, both in appearances and temperament. Renly took after their mother in charm and grace. But Stannis was his own person. He heard rumors from his father that Stannis often mimicked their grandmother with how he carried himself. 

“Almost like royalty,” he would praise when Stannis was left to play by himself. No other omega children were interested. Fortunately, Stannis never cried. He never smiled, either, but it was the lack of tears that unnerved Robert. Stannis would swim in the oceans for hours and Robert swore he never saw a drop of water hit his face.

“Stannis has been practicing his sword every day,” Cassana chimed in. “He might be better than you now,” she teased.

Robert chuckled. “He’s still training?”

Stannis began to train alongside Robert a year before he left for the Eyrie. Robert insisted on his formal instruction. Stannis would often watch his brother train with the sword, warning him about practicing without further instruction, and whining about how he was reckless and stupid with his zealousness. One day, Robert had asked him to prove his knowledge with a fight. Stannis was unable to refuse. Working purely on the memory of Robert's lessons, it became apparent that Stannis was gifted with the sword. He was ruthless in his attacks, angered by Robert's goading, and though he lost in the end, it was not easy on Robert's part. Robert realized he liked the challenge and insisted on his brother's lessons. Maester Cressen protested, saying it would further ostracize Stannis from omega companionship. Instead of heeding his warning, their father praised the ingenuity of the proposal. He jested that Stannis may even find a husband worthy of him, which Robert scoffed at.

Fortunately, it was the right move. Stannis may never be the ideal bride, but he was well suited for warfare. He loved to swim. It was the only activity that almost made him smile. He liked maps and tactics and strategy. Alphas may not have liked Stannis, but those who wished to learn how to fight like fighting him. He gave easy instructions, was quiet unless he had something useful to say. He could never beat Robert but was still fearsome in his own right. Robert was not at all surprised to learn how far Stannis has come. 

Steffon nodded, and he was proud this time. “He is good at it. I believe one day he may be manning a ship in your name.”

“Let us see,” Robert accepted easily. “When will we see each other?"

“He was supposed to come home as soon as he saw your party. He trains at the highest peak of the castle—he should have noticed you. He notices everything. He believes all the tramps to be spies, and the maids to sell secrets."

"It's rather endearing, sometimes," Steffon noted. "I can still feel the lashes of his tongue when I tried to give Renly another sweet last night. It was like dealing with my mother, but without the marks." 

"I'm sure he's lost track of time." Cassana turned to the hourglass. “If he doesn't come soon, I’ll send someone for him.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

All eyes turned to the voice. Robert’s eyes widened as he recognized the figure at once.

The boy from before.

Stannis Baratheon gave a simple, curt apology for his tardiness. He was dressed in near nothing—a summer’s top without sleeves and loose pants of a beggar. There was no frills or colors to it, and without the shapely expectations of an omega, Stannis could have passed off as an underdeveloped alpha. He was boyish, yet carried maturity men twice his age lacked. Speaking of which, Robert was surprised he did not recognize the boy for who he was when he saw him. Stannis had not changed much since childhood. He was taller, but everything else was relatively the same. His eyes were still the shade of a storming sea at night, and his face carried the same plain quality. The only difference was instead of being a faceless figure in the crowd, lacking any sort of distinguishment, Robert couldn’t look away. It was rather unsettling. 

“Stannis, how good of you to join us!” Steffon moved forward to touch him, but Stannis politely refused, citing the filth of a hard day’s training.

“I’m sweating from the training. I will wash and join you later.” Steffon was disappointed, but not surprised. Stannis then turned to Robert. “Hello, Robert.” Stannis paused. “You look well.”

The Baratheon heir straightened up his back. Stannis made him stiff as wood, but it didn’t keep him from feeling annoyed. Seven years and this was the greeting he received. There was no smile, not even a blink of astonishment. Stannis may not have changed, but Robert was a sprout that turned into an oak tree, and Stannis’s cunt should have drenched the floor with such a potent alpha in front of him, family or not. 

“Hello.” Then, out of persistence, Robert stepped forward. “What? You can’t even spare a hug for your lord?” He said the title in jest, but Stannis was never one for jokes. His teeth grinded—a habit he had not been able to break it seemed.

Stannis glared and repeated his earlier sentiment—this time in annoyance. “As I said, Robert, I am dirty, and I wish to clean myself. Thank you.”

Robert had felt unsettled a few times in his youth, but they were always attributed to inadequacy. The thought of Stannis brought that out of him, his parents and tutors lauded his brother for having what Robert lacked—patience, foresight, resolve. In turn, Robert made sure to emphasize the accomplishments he knew Stannis could never attain—charm, popularity, humor. It was an odd occurrence when an alpha contended with an omega, and Robert was often left wondering if Stannis was not an alpha changeling masquerading as an omega human.

It was this thought that inspired Robert’s next piece of prose. Instead of allowing his brother to leave, Robert instructed Stannis to change into something more appealing.

Stannis turned around in surprise. “What?”

“At least cover yourself up," Robert ordered. The older Baratheon grabbed Stannis’ shirt and bundled it up in his fist. Doing this pulled the top down to reveal the tops of Stannis’ nipples, almost brown with how dark they were. Stannis was darker than most omegas Robert had seen north of Dorne—his skin was tan almost to the point of brown, and Robert hated how it fitted him. The boy's only friend was the ocean, and it seemed since Robert's departure, he'd become the lover of the sun and sea. Stannis wasn’t silk; he was iron. His body screamed of health, and one day, it would produce children that made the same claim.

The thought made Robert livid.

“Cover yourself up,” Robert repeated. “With your figure, you look like a child playing whore.”

Robert expected outraged, or at least indignation at having insulted Stannis’ noble precedent. Instead, there was a moment of shock, and then there was _sadness_. Stannis immediately covered up his sorrows with anger, as he glared at his older brother and bit back his tongue. Stannis, for all his books and tactics, was never a child of quick wits and clever retorts. He ground his teeth again, before Stannis turning his heel and walking away. 

When Robert made the same move, he was met with the disapproval of his parents.

“What?”

“You’re so cruel to him,” his mother scolded. “Even as a child, you’d make him cry. I’d thought Eddard Stark would knock some fraternity into you.”

“I consider Ned my brother in every sense, and I long to make him family,” Robert countered, making his implication clear as day. The stag was never one for subtlety, nor would he deny his intention to marry the Lyanna Stark. This was one of the reasons Robert returned—he needed his father to make the arrangements at once. He had attended her ceremony, he had made his intentions known, and now all that was left was to negotiate the union between their great houses.

“Stannis has much to struggle with these days. You will be kind to him.” Steffon warned.

“This is Stannis. His bones are made of iron. If a sword swung, they would not bleed red.” 

“Robert please,” his mother begged. She looked at her husband and sighed. “Stannis has not entered his heat yet.”

“Why is that a concern? He is still young.” The boy may act as a lord. but he was still Robert’s little brother. 

Cassana seemed surprised by his nonchalance. She repeated her sentiment and emphasized her point until it hit her eldest son. “Robert, Stannis is fourteen.” She paused when she saw her son’s blankness. “How old were you when you entered your first rut?”

“I was—” Robert paused. It finally hit him. He saw his father shake his head, muttering about the brick his heir had in place of a brain. “I…it’s different for omegas.”

“Yes,” Cassana agreed. “It comes earlier for us.”

“Ah.” Robert didn’t know whether to laugh or frown. “That explains the mood.”

Both his parents sigh. “Maester Cressen claimed he was due at the beginning of the year, and it’s been several months since then. His patience is pushing past its threshold, and he has become…_sensitive _since the delay.”

Steffon cut in. “And he doesn’t need your candor making things worse.”

Robert tried to play off his curiosity. Bloomings were private affairs. It wouldn’t do for an alpha, even one of blood, to go sniffing around a still budded omega.

“So, no comments about him being an old maid, huh?” Robert sat back down on the chair and enjoyed his snack.

“Robert!”

Robert held his hands up in defeat. “That was the last of it,” he promised. “Thank god we don’t kill for a laugh or my brother would have me hung.”

Unable to win the fight at their callous son, both Baratheon sat down in defeat. Lady Baratheon added that he might live to regret his words. “You keep teasing him, and one day, Stannis may seek retribution.”

“Will he bore me to death?”

Steffon struck him on the back of his head. Robert yelped, and he moved to rub it. Even in jest, it hurt.

“I mean it,” his mother added. “I was a late bloomer as well, and once I blossomed, I had those same alphas who used to mock eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“Will his face melt off with the coming heat?”

For that, Renly laughed. At least one of his brothers had a sense of humor, Robert thought. 

“There’s more to lust than beauty, and love to romance. You don’t see it because you’re his brother, but there is an allure to Stannis. And though he wears a veil, the first alpha he shows it to will be the one who captures his heart.”

Robert frowned as he drank his wine. He thought about how Stannis flaunted his wet skin to him upon their reunion and the deep blues that emphasize the sunglow on his skin. He thought his bare chest and how they were just as tan as the rest of him and wondered if his bare bottom and smooth thighs would be just as fair, or maybe his brother was more of an adventurer than he thought. Robert shook his head.

“Good thing I am his brother,” he told them. “For that is a sight I do not wish to see.”

***

Following his lunch with his family, Robert was overcome with the urge to rut. His cock gained weight as he strolled through his ancestral lands, and it swelled through his trousers. Many maidens across the castle have been eying his form since he arrived, and he felt it a disserve to deny them. His father would not mind as long as he kept it private, and not prey on some of the lord’s more capable workers. Despite his love for his wife, Lord Baratheon had a reputation for being a beast in regains to his loins. He loved to travel and drink as much as he liked to rut and fuck. Fortunately, his wife opted to accompany him on many journeys, but when there was no guard for his groin, he often found himself within amendable company. There was no doubt a bastard or two running around Westeros with their dark hair and blue eyes, but such an inconvenience was standard for a lord. Robert learned the lesson personally when his first child was born in the Eyrie. Unlike most, he could not help but rejoice at the sowing of his seeds.

“My virility is renowned!” Robert shouted after a long night of drink. “One bastard and many more swollen bellies to come.”

Ned shook his head in exasperation. “There are many ways to prove one’s virility that does not involve the lives of children.”

“Yes, but none as satisfying.” He took another swig as he grinned perversely. “Nothing gets me harder than the thought of fucking some young, fertile omega serving as a breeding tool. Just last night, a lady entered my bed and asked me to pull out of her before I knotted. I told her that one does not leave the bed of a Baratheon unseeded.” Robert licked his lips as he recalled the memory.

Ned didn’t answer. “What will happen to the child?” He asked, instead.

Robert chuckled. “The mother is married, and her child will be raised as her husband’s.”

“You would let another alpha raise your child?” 

“Oh, do not cry over that man’s honor, Ned! If he did not wish for cuckoldry, he should have spent less time working and more time fucking his wife.” Robert took another swig. “He should be grateful I’ve blessed their home with my seed.” In truth, the man’s humiliation appealed to him. Robert got hard thinking of the number of omegas he could sink his cock into while their husbands were away. These fools were toiling and slogging their wages over another man’s bastard, and were happy for the opportunity.

“I cannot find the appeal. If it were your wife—”

“_Lyanna_,” Robert snapped, the humor removed from his tone. “Would never betray in me such a manner. And she isn’t one of these whores I dally with. She is my lady.”

Ned sighed. “Omegas may be different, but children are the same. They need a father, not a farmer.”

Robert grimaced. “I came here for a drink, not a lecture.” He cheered at his foster brother. “Wait until you have your first bastard and we shall talk later.”

Ned almost rolled his eyes at his best friend. “I will father no bastards.”

“No?” Robert chuckled, though not in disbelief.

“I only desire a wife who is loyal and true.”

“One omega for the rest of your life,” Robert mocked. “Even our foster father has found relief outside the wedding bed.” 

“Jon is searching for a wife to produce an heir. His pursuit is far from lustful.” Ned corrected. “Once he has found one, he will stay loyal as he has in his other marriages.”

Robert would see it to believe it. “I suppose you are happy to be your brother’s shadow as well.”

Ned paid his jokes no mind. “I do not find shame in being his bannerman; I am not suited to be a lord.”

“Now I will fight you for that falseness.” Robert pointed his drink at him. “I know no better man than you Ned Stark.”

Ned was unfamiliar to praise, so he only smiled and sipped his drink. Robert stared at him. “You will really father no bastards?"

“I have no inclination for whoremongering,” Ned agreed. “Father has given me his faith in choosing a bride—given that he or she is of suitable lineage. I will not squander my fortune by dishonoring the omega I choose to wed. One will be my only." 

Robert nodded. “I am fortunate in that regard as well.” He smiled at the stars above him. “I cannot wait for the day Lyanna swells with a child.”

“I can.” Ned finished off his drink. He made no inclination of having another. “Brother or not, I will see to postpone the wedding for as long as possible.”

“You are far too protective of that cub. Your sister will be a woman soon.”

Ned shook his head. “She will never be grown in my eyes. Any alpha with omega in his litter would agree.”

Robert scoffed. “Stannis has been grown since he was a babe. I’ve never seen him as my brother, let alone a child.”

Ned frowned, for he was a man of family and the sentiment seemed disturbed. “Never?”

Robert shook his head. He leaned back in his chair. “He kept close to me when we were young. Stannis was scared of strangers, so whenever someone came near, I’d drive them away for him. We were inseparable for that time; I loved him more than anything.” Robert poured another drink. “When father began my training as a lord, the differences between us became clear. I was an alpha and the heir; he was the omega and spare. He grew bitter and I was forced to abandon him until my fostering.” 

Ned got up from his seat. “Life is not fair for a second son and even less so for an omega. If he is as dutiful as you claim, then Stannis will likely have grown out of such behavior.”

“I hope so,” Robert agreed. He got up as well, but his stumble was far greater. “It would not be unpleasant to have that boy cling to me as he once did.”

***

Robert’s lie of restoring his memory of the castle became truth as he wandered through the halls with no direction. He wanted to kill time before the party, and while searching for a willing maid, he noted that none of the faces were familiar and the ones that were have aged. There was one girl he worshipped as a child, and yet as he looked at her now, she carried more lines on her face than the rivers on a map. He wondered how he could rule this place when he didn’t know anything about it.

Yet with many of his worries, Robert often searched for a distraction. His nose caught a whiff of a glorious scent—saltwater from the farthest parts of the sea, a sort spice and smoke like burnt incense, and newly cured leather. The smell was masculine, yet so light, Robert knew it came from an omega. Robert followed the scent down a path, and as he walked past the tapestries and paintings, a wave of nostalgia came upon him. It wasn’t until he entered the room where the smell was the strongest that he knew why.

Stannis stood in the center of the room, admiring himself in the mirror. ‘Admiring’ though, was stretched, given his deepening frown as turned to his sides and investigated his backside. Any other omega would have a party of maids helping them fit perfectly into their new wares, but Stannis has never been like other omegas. The dress was brown, a universally unflattering color, and had faux gold trimmings that despite their minimalism still looked gaudy on the budded omega. Robert had been joking earlier, but Stannis did indeed look like a child in his mother’s clothing as the thick fabric wore him down.

Robert also nodded that his hair was still wet from the baths and judging from the lack of glisten on his skin, there was not a drop of oil on him. That alluring scent from earlier was all Stannis. 

The Baratheon heir hadn’t realized he was staring until he heard Stannis spoke, “If you’re going to insult me, do it, so I may be free from your unyielding gaze.”

“Huh?”

Robert could see Stannis roll his eyes. The boy claimed his stare was unnerving. “I know I look foolish.”

Robert opened his mouth, but just as he was about to reply, Stannis removed his outer layer. He revealed an undershirt and shorts that cut halfway through his thigh. On Robert was powerless in his next action; Stannis had no ass to accentuate but his legs—in all of his years on earth, Robert had never seen finer legs—muscled thighs that went along with his sleek calves. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on them. His broad shoulders emphasized his thin frame and it became clear to Robert that Stannis' apparent conventionalism was only present when clothes were involved. Naked, Stannis' figure was a treat for the eyes. 

“You look lovely,” Robert answered.

Stannis sighed. “You’re a liar,” Stannis accused. “I’m not one of the maids you’ve deflowered; I won’t abide by your sweet nonsense.”

Robert had sputtered many falsehoods on an excellent cunt, but he didn’t appreciate being accused of something he wasn’t. “I was not lying. Furthermore, a lord should learn to appease his people. Sometimes that means a bit of flattery.”

Stannis glared at him, and Robert felt an immediate stir in his cock. “Tell a lie enough times, and it becomes the truth to yourself. There are so many people trying to pull the wool over our eyes, and I refuse to do their jobs for them." 

“Of course, you will not,” Robert snorted. He remembered having to apologize for Stannis’ callousness many times in their youth. “Seven years and you haven’t changed since you were a child.”

Stannis tensed, and Robert immediately recognized the folly in his words. His younger brother swiped a top on his bed and covered up his underdeveloped body. Robert could not deny his disappointment when he did the same to those perfect legs. He bet it would take hours to kiss them fully. 

“What are you doing here, Robert?”

Unable to confess to his earlier intentions, Robert decided his pride would take the hit to protect his reputation. “I wish to apologize for earlier.”

Stannis scoffed. “Are the maids not to your pleasure, then?”

Robert coughed at having been caught. Cheeky brat.

Stannis finished up buttoning his top. There was a knock on the door, and Stannis went over to open it for them instead of giving the command to enter. There was a brief conversation as the door closed, and Stannis walked back to his desk with a kettle and bowls of herbs and powders. Before making a cup for himself, Stannis grabbed a cask and poured into a cup. He handed the goblet to Robert. While Robert was disappointed to see that it was water, he was still surprised by the offer.

“Not going to offer me a cup?”

Stannis’ lips gave a little twitch, reminiscent of an almost smile. “It won’t be to your taste.” The younger Baratheon sat down and formulated his mixture, starting with the white powders before moving into the seeds and mustard hued herbs. Stannis had these long, thin fingers that made all his handwork looked refined. When he finished his mixing, he took a sip and grimaced.

“Not to your taste either.”

Stannis finished up his cup in one gulp. “Mother bought it off a hedge witch in the northern forests.”

“For what?”

“To spurn my heat.” Stannis glanced over at him. Robert looked away, hoping his knowledge would not spur a further argument. “I am sure mother and father have made you aware of my condition.”

Robert made the best decision in his life and drank his water. It was flavorless and clear—just like Stannis oddly enough. He contemplated his next words wisely. “You don’t strike me as a believer of such…” Robert shook his head for the right word. He couldn’t call it nonsense, that would just offend Stannis, or medicine, because that may label him a fool if Stannis didn’t believe in its properties and was merely drinking it to appease their mother. Fable, hogwash, beliefs, and many other words crossed his mind with no better result.

Finally, Robert told him he was surprised maester Cressen agreed. The man was far too protective over the second son. He didn't care much for Robert, either. 

This must have been the right thing to say, for Stannis relaxed into his chair. “He was upset.” He added, “But he investigated the mixture, and all this is fennel seed and powdered milk and a number of things I have taken before. As long as it does hinder me, I see no harm in ingesting it, and if it helps, all the better.” Stannis added, hesitantly, that his body has been growing. “I’ve gained almost four inches this year alone.” 

"I could tell," Robert agreed. He leered downward. "Those legs of yours are as long as mountains. They could wrap around any alpha with ease."

Stannis almost dropped his cup. He stared at Robert with wide eyes.

Robert, realizing the implication of his words, finished up his water. It helped settle the churn in his belly as he thought about his brother’s newly matured body taking in an adult’s knot. Stannis was bigger than most omegas—hell, his little brother was bigger than some alphas. But he was still so much _smaller _than Robert, and it was far too much fun imagining those legs wrapped around his waist, heels of his feet digging into his ass while he thrust his brother against the wall.

Robert quickly changed the topic. “I don’t see why you’re so eager to be grown,” Robert exclaimed. “I remembered when you wanted to travel.”

“I still want to travel,” Stannis countered. “My blossoming will not delay my plans.”

“And what will your husband say about that?”

“Why would he say anything?” Stannis retorted. “Mother travels with father often. They’re taking a trip to Essos on behalf of the king later this year.”

“And you believe you can marry a man like our father?” Robert scoffed. “The world is not kind to omegas, least of all who model themselves after alphas. You should have some sense and settle for the cries of a speared man rather than a crying babe.” Robert chuckled. “I’ll feel for your children having a general for a mother.”

Robert meant it as a joke, but Stannis didn’t laugh.

“Do you think that is why the Gods have not allowed me to blossom?” 

Robert looked up as Stannis cleaned up his tea. He was no longer looking at his brother, but the heir of Storm’s End could see the sorrow weighing down his face. He aged ten years in ten seconds.

“Stannis, I was joking—”

"Forget it." Stannis shook his head. His rage replaced his sorrows, and he tried to lead Robert to the door. “I would like some privacy, Robert.”

“Stannis.”

“I do not need your falsehoods now. I’ve heard what you had to say.”

“Stannis, you take my light words and give them weight. I meant nothing.”

“If you said it, you meant it.”

Stubborn brat. “No,” Robert protested. “I was joking. You take everything too seriously.”

“I suppose you can add that to the list as to why I would fail as a mother.”

“There is no list.”

Stannis ignored him. He took the cups and plates and brought them outside.

Robert pushed. “Stannis, you will be a fine mother, and you will have many children. I know it.”

“And you are a seer now?” Stannis snapped.

Robert was taken back. A decent man would have recognized the damage he had caused and walked away. Instead, Robert was stubborn and stood his ground. “If the Gods see it to give me a bastard, they will see to giving you the duties of a mother.”

"What?" Stannis turned to him. “What did you say?”

Robert shrugged. "I have a bastard." His nonchalance was met with astonishment, and Robert thought of leaving before the disgust arrived. To Robert's surprise, once the shock wore off, his brother's innocence faded as well, and the storming pools of his eyes were alit with the thunder of arousal. Stannis was more than curious; he was intrigued. Robert felt his cock rise again at his brother's curiousity. Robert saw now, that the blood was the same shade of red, and such color became apparent when he drew closer, as if eager to breathe in the air of Robert's virility. 

Robert paused, before leaning back on the bed and sent his younger brother a beckoning stare. "Sit." Stannis paused to consider. Finally, he relented and sat down next to his brother. Satisfied with his brother's submission, Robert continued his tale. “You must have heard the rumors. I’ve bedded many omegas on my journeys, and more than a fertile few were open to receiving my seed. A bastard was born two months before my arrival here.” Robert brushed his hand against Stannis' skin. His younger brother did not notice, nor did he move away. If anything, he got closer. 

"You did?" Stannis breathed. "What did they look like?" 

“He had our eyes.”

“Our eyes?” Stannis breathed out. He touched his stomach as if he imagined the swelling of his own blue-eyed babe. For some reason, Robert wasn't nearly as offended as he normally was whenever the topic of Stannis' breeding came up. “Where is he now?”

“His mother was already wedded to another.” A cuckoo in a raven’s nest. "But I assume her husband was happy; he was now the father of a healthy alpha boy." Robert peered at Stannis, whose body was flushed with heat. "I gave them an heir."

Stannis looked down. It was too late, Robert thought, he could smell his brother's desire. 

“How could you...you're fine with that? Letting your son be raised by another?” Stannis asked. 

“We do not need bastards in this castle.” Robert shrugged.

“You are disgusting,” Stannis snapped. His hands were firmly pressed against his stomach, and Robert knew he was imagining his own belly being filled. Was he thinking about me? Robert wondered. Did he want to be another one of Robert's broodmares? Filled up with Robert's rich seed, and abandoned without another thought. Or perhaps any alpha would spur such a reaction from such a repressed creature. The latter thought got Robert especially heated because he knew it wasn't true. Stannis was angry at Robert for his waste. If anyone deserved a Baratheon heir, it was Stannis. 

Robert was inclined to agree.

"What else would you propose?" Robert asked, half-curious, and half-hard at Stannis' potential answer. 

Stannis did not disappoint. "We could always raise him here. We would not have to say he was your bastard, and there are plenty of families in our lands that want children. You could visit. And—" 

"What if I do not care to visit a child who would not carry my name?" Robert licked his lips. "What then?" 

"So all you do is breed them and leave them?" Robert’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of his brother’s flush running down his chest and thighs. Stannis' body was hot with revulsion, and Robert could recognize the smell of honey anywhere. Stannis caught his leer and turned away. But Stannis didn't drop the subject; he was far too invested in the crime. “Is he your only one?”

Robert licked his lips as he confessed his trespasses to his brother. “I do not believe he is,” Robert noted. “There were many, many omegas. Who knows how many bellies are swelling on my behalf?”

“You are the heir of Storm’s End. You should…” Stannis grind his teeth. “You should not spread your seed so frivolously. It is disgraceful.”

“Aye, I should be saving it for good, proper omegas like yourself." Stannis almost choked at the suggestion. Robert noted that he didn't deny the option, making his older brother smirk.

"Are you jealous?"

"No!" Stannis shouted. Too soon. Too fast. Even a deaf man could hear the lie. 

Robert chuckled. "Alphas are beasts, Stannis. It is our nature to fuck the cunts of many, and I am not satisfied unless I know my knot is filling their willing womb. If they did not wish for my seed, they should have avoided my eyes.” Robert stared at Stannis’ tightening thighs as they sat together. “You want it, too, don’t you?” 

Stannis opened his mouth to lie, but he was an honest child and could not help but wear his heart on his sleeve. “An omega must provide heirs for his husband.”

“And what else?”

“What else is there?” Stannis bit back.

“You speak of duty, but what of desire. You want children, regardless if it is your husband’s wish. You want to be _bred_.”

“I am an omega; it is natural to want a child—” Stannis protested.

“It’s more than that with us,” Robert leaned closer. “Our seed is strong because it builds within us, begging to be released. I bet your womb is fraught already, and the gods are merely biding their time to keep you from sullying it with the common kernel."

“You are horrible,” Stannis whispered but he didn’t move away from Robert. "You are blessed with so much and yet you squander it all like pennies." 

"Like the child you deserve to have?" Robert moved like a predator. His hand slowly wrapped around Stannis' waist. “Confess, Stannis.”

“I will not.”

Stannis yelped when Robert grabbed him and nearly placed him in his lap. Robert was stronger than his brother and held him captive in his arms. Stannis struggled, but in the end, submitted to his lord.

“Your body is hot,” Robert whispered. His arms wrapped around Stannis' waist. It felt good to enrich himself with the scent. “I bet it’s hotter than it’s ever been.” Stannis’ heart was pounding. He could feel it against his skin. “If you confess, I am sure you will be rewarded. Your heat is prickling through, egging to attract the virile alpha within your reach."

Stannis shut his eyes. He thought about his sins, and then he swallowed. “I want to have children,” Stannis told Robert. His voice sounded strained as both the pain and arousal were evident.

"What else? Hmm?" 

"You are a horrible man!" Stannis ground his teeth. He struggled to get out of his brother's arms, but Robert held him in place. 

"Tell me what else you want. It's not just children, is it?" Robert's hand slipped on top of his groin. He didn't press upon it, but it was there, and it could feel the heat radiating out of his quim. "What else? Tell me what you want inside you." 

Stannis' breath hitched. “I want, I want an alpha’s seed inside me."

"An alpha?" Robert's fingers bent together to form a mock grip. "Who? Your husband? A stranger?" Me, Robert almost proposed. 

"I..." Stannis released a soft, barely audible moan. He squirmed in an effort to get away, but his body kept pressing onto Robert's hand. "I don’t care. I...I don't care who it is," Stannis breathed out. "I don't care as long as they give me a child. Ah!”

Robert pressed one of his fingers against Stannis. “And after the first, would you wish for another?" Robert asked. "And another? Until your body cannot bear anymore." 

"Robert!" Stannis pleaded. "Stop!" 

Robert wanted to push, perhaps ask how far Stannis would go to achieve his desires. What if he never married? Would he ride the closest cock he could find? What if his husband was sterile? Would he cuckold the man as a means to an end? Robert never got the opportunity to ask as Stannis jumped from the bed and backed into his desk. He was panting.

“This is…another one of your jokes, is it not?”

“I—”

“It’s not funny,” Stannis cut him off. “You…I’ve never found you funny. Everyone did, our servants, our stable boys, the tutors, everyone thought you a king in his own world but I…” Stannis shook his head. “I couldn’t understand your humor. I still don’t.”

“Stannis—”

“I will not be made a fool, Robert. Not even from you.” 

Stannis was shaking, and he sought relief the only way he knew how—through order and control. Robert watched as the young man went through his study materials and pulled out a large book. 

“I’m sure mother has not told you, but you will be my escort for tonight.”

Robert opened his mouth to speak, but Stannis refused to let a word in.

“You will take me to the party and have your first dance with me. If you choose to dally with the maids or ladies or lords after, I will not protest, but you must at least do the bare minimum. Trust me; it will not be hard.” Stannis took a breath. “I am not…well received amongst our noble neighbors.”

Stannis brought the book towards him. Robert reached out to get it, and when it seemed like their fingers would touch, Stannis dropped it onto his lap.

“You do not have the luxury of being so unloved, given your status. Fortunately, you were born with the warrior’s charm.” Stannis hesitated. “I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

“What is it?” Robert asked, desperate to get a word in.

“A book for all the stormlands’ houses, with their lords and children attach. You know some of them already and those you don't, well, that won't be a problem. You’re good with names, and better with people so I pray this is no hardship for you.” It was rare for Stannis to praise him, and Robert fed on words like candy. “All are followed by a few distinguishing features that may be important to note. Written so clearly a child could understand.”

“You made this?”

“I wasn’t going to count on you not to humiliate the family name.” If he didn’t know better, Robert would have thought that was a joke.

“If anything, this is a review, but I still recommend you start studying now.”

Robert sighed. That would ruin his plans for bedding. He looked up at Stannis, who was already picking up his dress from the floor and hanging it in front of his closet. “You used to hate wearing dresses.”

“So, you remember me as someone more than cold and friendless?”

“Must you take everything I say as an insult?”

“Must you insult me?” Stannis countered.

Robert took the book and stood up. “I merely wanted to offer you advice as your brother. I know what an alpha looks for an omega, and if you do not seek my wisdom, I will thank you and leave.”

Stannis paused, and as Robert was about to turn the handle on the door, he heard his little brother cry out ‘wait.’ Robert turned around, smug as a merchant with a monopoly.

Stannis looked physically pained as he asked what Robert wished to share. There was something greatly satisfying about wounding the pride of an omega so haughty. “Find another dress.”

Stannis looked ready to kill. Before he could yell, Robert interrupted him with clarity. “You have fine legs,” Robert praised. “And a pair of thighs alphas want wrapping around their heads as they stick their tongues into a cunt.” 

Stannis turned red with embarrassment. “That’s filthy—"

“But it’s true,” Robert said. He kept his tone severe, in order to appeal to Stannis’ rational. “That dress is thick and belongs in a widow’s wardrobe. If you wish to appeal to anyone, you must offer what little you do have.” Robert glanced at those legs again and trailed up to his toned stomach and finally landed on those eyes. Robert referenced their colors as twins, but in reality, Stannis’s eyes carried the midnight ocean while Robert had the afternoon sky. “Brother or not, I know I couldn’t resist spilling over your face if your eyes were looking up at me.”

For this comment, Stannis chased his brother out of his room. He yelled at him to attend a sept’s session for his mind was filled with filth. Once the doors were shut, he could hear Stannis launching into a litany of insults, all ringing true and callous, yet carried no weight. Robert waited outside the door until he heard the closet doors open. A satisfied chuckle left his throat.

Robert knew no matter how much Stannis hated him; his brother would obey him. Obedience was a wonderful trait to be found in an omega, and he was glad Stannis finally grasped its importance. His cock, which was rising prior to their conversation, was fully awake when he left Stannis’ bedroom. With the book in hand, Robert search to get his dick fed before he would have to suffer through the literature.

Robert’s nose led him to a storage room, where a number of servants were diligently working on what looked to be this evening’s decorations. Most of them were omegas, and all of them were common workers judging by the callouses on their hands and the muscles in their arms. Robert’s dick twitched in delight. He loved the rough ones. They were ones that begged him to punch his cock through their cunts and asked him to hit their asses harder when they rode him.

“Lord Robert!”

Robert almost jumped. He turned to see an elderly maid bow, and he tried not to grimace at the acknowledgment. All the servants stopped what they were doing and stood up in respect.

No doubt Robert would have to answer what he was doing there, and though whatever generic excuse would be accepted, it still meant he would have to make a decision on the spot. Taking too much time to pick a bedwarmer tends to ruin morale. They were less enthusiastic in the bedroom if they thought he had a hard time deciding who he wanted to fuck, and it made them less grateful when he selected someone new.

“How can I help you, m’lord?”

Robert smiled at her, and though she was long beyond her child-bearing years, her smile widened at the expression. “I was looking for some assistance in tidying up my room. It’s a bit dusty. I’d like to borrow one of the maids.”

The maid tried not to frown. Her lips twitched the slightest because as soon as he made the request, it was clear what his intentions were—still, she complied. “Of course, m’lord. Please, take your pick.”

Robert searched the room. He set his eyes on a pair of pretty girls in the corner, who, prior to his introduction, was more focused on gossiping than actual weaving. They stared at him with breasts out of their dresses, with one having a love mark marring the top of her areole. To be so bold with her appearance meant she was fucking a few members of importance, and Robert didn’t doubt his father may be a regular. Both were viable options, but they were too _frivolous_. He looked at the table and saw a fit-looking boy, who didn’t have much of a rack, but an ass that acted as a comfortable cushion for his chair. Like the others, his face was beyond average, and Robert didn’t hate blonds, but he was craving severe over superficial.

Finally, Robert’s eyes landed on a darkly dressed maid sitting on the chair, finishing up a wreath. Her face was tolerable, and her body was made of angles instead of curves, but Robert couldn’t take his eyes off her. When she noticed his staring, she looked at him. When Robert took in that dire expression, he knew he had to have her.

“She’ll do,” Robert told the elderly servant.

The supervisor was taken back. “Her?” Everyone took a second to express their shock in whispers and gasps, only to be silenced by their overseer. She closed her mouth, probably to reformat her protest. “M’lord, I’m afraid this maid has no experience _cleaning personal quarters_. Perhaps, I can ask for a volunteer—”

A few girls and boys took a step forward to offer themselves. On any other day, Robert may have accepted. Having an omega fight for one’s cock was a thrill, but it wasn’t what he was looking for tonight. “I’ll have her.” 

The woman looked distraught, as did her charge who seemed to look to her for guidance. Instead, she nodded, and gesture for the maid to follow Robert. When she got to her feet, Robert frowned in disappointment at her lack of height. She was far smaller than he hoped, but at least her skirt was down to her ankles and her body was covered. He was in the mood for modesty.

“I hope you’re as tight as you look,” Robert told her after they left the room. He asked if she was a virgin.

The girl clenched her fist and nodded her head. “Yes, m’lord.”

Robert frowned when he heard her voice. It was too soft, and there wasn’t the edge he hoped to hear. “Keep your words short,” Robert ordered. “If you must speak at all.”

“Ye—” The girl corrected herself by nodding. Robert grinned. She wasn’t stupid. She held her head down as more servants, both alpha and omega, watch their future lord lead his first harlot down the halls. They all knew what was to happen, having seen a similar scene in this castle and many others before. Old lords, new lords, kind lords, and cruel lords whom have no problem taking advantage of the labor they pay for. Robert hoped they enjoyed the scene. Robert planned on giving them far more like it in the future, but for now, they would have to wait until he was done parading her down the halls with a ruined cunt.

Eventually, the two made their way to their destination. The girl followed orders well. She gave no more than a yelp when Robert pushed her on his bed. “Present,” the heir ordered. The girl hesitated, before rolling over to raise her ass in the air and spread her legs. Robert licked his lips as her fresh, untouched cunt filled his view, and despite the plainness of her appearance, Robert would say that was one of the finest pussies he’d ever seen in his life. Arousal filled the Baratheon. Thinking little of anything else but stuffing her full, Robert shoved her face into the pillow hard enough she might pass out if he continued. He grunted when he pushed two fingers inside her cunt, pumping them in and out until he heard the wet squelch of slick forming. When the omega whimpered, Robert slapped her ass and turned the whine into a wail.

“I won’t be gentle on you because you’re a virgin. You need to get used to a bit of roughness or else you’ll never learn how to please an alpha,” Robert warned. His breath got short as he used his soaked fingers to stroke his cock, getting it wetter for penetration. Her skinny legs were shaking in trepidation. Coupled with her dark hair spilling over the pillow, Robert was immediately reminded of his little brother. He used to be so much smaller, Robert thought as he positioned his head against the cunt.

Robert’s cock got harder as he wondered if Stannis would feel as good. The answer was yes; it had to be. Stannis’ virgin tightness would do nothing less than wrap around his cock in its snug, hot grip. Despite Stannis’ frigidness, Robert knew the values of a proper omega. The first being that they didn’t know better when an alpha demanded they do something filthy; most were inclined to refuse, before accepting their alpha’s forcefulness as routine. Hell, if he was as dumb as some of the things Robert met, he might have been able to convince his little brother to give him his hole as “practice”. The heir pushed the omega’s legs further apart despite the slight effort to tighten its thighs. The omega earned another smack on the ass, and this wasn’t close to gentle or playful. The maid relented and opened its cunt for display.

Without hesitation, Robert pushed in a few inches before completely sheathing his sword within the omega’s quim. The wails were stifled by the pillow. Naturally, the omega’s inexperience coupled with the suddenness made the intrusion quite painful. Robert grunted as he adjusted himself for comfort, making small thrusts and movements that eventually had the omega squirming. His cunt began to produce slick in heavy amounts, probably producing out more to get the cock deeper. The struggle to get away and the sounds of agony became little humps on his cock, and wanton little whimpers left its mouth.

Robert chuckled. This was the thing he loved about omegas—even the most reluctant was weak to a good cock. This one was particularly skilled; its inner muscles flexed around his hard cock, already seeking a knot as clenched around him. Plain omegas were the best fucks; they simply tried harder to please. 

Robert’s cock plowed through the increasing amount of slick, producing more of that filthy, wet sound that came with a raw mating. He fucked himself in and out of the omega by grabbing onto its thin hips for stability, enjoying how its body fitted into his hands. Stannis had hips like these—straight with the clear potential to be stretched out by a slew of children. He fucked more furiously at the thought of Stannis taking his dick. The omega below moaned from the sensation, and with the pillows stuffing its mouth and Robert stuffing its cunt, it produced sounds barely recognizable as human, let alone female or male. Robert could really start to see his brother lying beneath him, taking him whole. 

“That’s a good omega.” Robert knew a knot was going to come soon, but he didn’t care how fast he was going, only that he got his relief fast. “Take my knot. Take it like a good whore.” Robert rutted into its cunt, grunting and moaning, as his knot pushed into all the way to the omega’s womb and knotted them together. The omega shook as it came. Pleasure burst inside of Robert as the omega’s inner muscles clamped viciously down and hungrily milked his knot. Robert dug his fingers into its hips, and freely came and came until his seed was overflowing onto the sheets.

Robert waited several seconds after pumping out the last of his release into the omega, before slipping out of her. He cleaned his cock with her skirt despite the sheets around them and ordered her to strip the bed before she left. She stared at him blankly before obeying. When she was finished gathering the soiled cloths, he told her to tell the elderly maid that he enjoyed her performance. “You’re good for a beginner. Let’s see if we can’t turn you into an expert by the end of the season.”

“Thank you, m’lord.”

The girl bowed and left. Robert chuckled as she walked off with a noticeable limp in her step. Again, her figure was most attractive from the back. He imagined Stannis was the same height prior to his growth spurt, and Robert would have loved to have caused a stumble in him. If only his father wasn’t present, he could have his younger brother on his knees now. He’d fight more than the maids, as expected of a noble omega, but in the end, Stannis always listened to his big brother.


	2. Chapter 2

The Baratheon sigil was a crowned black stag on a field of gold. Some legends claimed the stag to be the most majestic of creatures, even higher than the dragon, as its antlers mimicked nature’s crown. The muscles of its form carried its strength to travel through the trees, never stopping until it reached the highest peak. The stag ruled over the forest as the father, king, and protector, representing fertility and guidance. These traits resonated well with House Baratheon. When Orys Baratheon defeated the last Storm King, he married the man’s daughter in the bed she was conceived in; he stripped the castle of its name and stained the bricks with Baratheon. House Durrandon was no more; the Storm Kings were gone, and what was left was a kingdom without foundation. 

The realm knew Orys’ blood boiled with dragon’s fire, but the river ran thin. He wore no dragons on his cloak, and his skin burned if touched by a flame. Orys Baratheon was a bastard—a Targaryen bastard but a bastard none the less, and he had no basis but a blood-earned decree to hold Storm’s End. When the King ordered him to select his colors and find his words, he could not comply because he knew nothing of himself except as his brother's servant. Orys was not a lord; he was a soldier given a castle. He turned to his new bride, and though she lamented the loss of her lineage, she could not keep her doe eyes away from her father’s throne. It was supposed to hers one day. Whether it was sentimentality or strategy, Orys saved the stag from the jaws of the dragon. From then on, the beast roamed his kingdom freely, and the words of the fallen house remained branded on the new walls. _‘Ours is the fury’ _became so ingrained in the Baratheon soul; the people believed that Orys was the hero of the seas and winds, sent to extinguish House Durrandon for their hubris. The Baratheon became the stags chosen by the gods, and he wore their antlers as a crown.

Robert thought about this legend as he mused on the deer decorating his cuffs. He just finished fitting his arms into his robes for this evening’s ceremony. It was unnecessary, but Robert was a creature of excess, and he never refused gold on his body. The tailor was grateful that his efforts would be minimal—the sleeves shaped his grown muscles perfectly, and the colors looked to be painted on by a master. The outfit belonged to Robert's father, and now it was his turn to wear it. 

“We’re about finished,” the tailor noted as he worked on the last leg. The man sounded relieved, and for good reason. Baratheons were as well known for their enormous figures as they were their black hair. Robert imagined the man had his work cut out for him whenever he was called to their keep, for commoners were rarely in need of a fitting, and noble bodies tending to vary from morbidly obese to merely morbid. They hired this tailor frequently. If Robert squinted, he could perhaps recall the man making Stannis’ nameday dress in their youth.

Finally, the man completed his last stitch. He got up and waited for his dismissal. Robert looked into the mirror to admire the work. Every black, silken thread wore on his muscles like a second skin, and not even the heavy coat of gold could hide his hard form. Despite the fine fit, the fabric was stretched around pecs, and his pants cupped his cock like a hand.

“You did well,” Robert praised. “My guests will not be disappointed.”

“You are too kind, Lord Robert.” The man gathered up his supplies while Robert was still looking into the mirror. After he left, Robert reached into his pants to give his cock a stroke. Robert learned this technique from a knight in the Eyrie. Yes, he looked good, but there was room for improvement—something clothes couldn’t do for him. When the party started, the castle would be swarming with sweet, ripe omegas who had the honor of welcoming Robert between their thighs. It would be a disservice not to warn them of the magnitude they would be taking, and the sight would widen his selection pool by miles. Omegas, at their core, wanted to be bred. The larger, the better. There was no greater pleasure than to have their wombs stretched out with the children of the biggest alpha they could find. The thought of it made him wish time would quicken. His cock was hot and heavy and ready to burst. He bet the heat of it alone could melt the coldest of omegas.

***

When most of the guests have arrived, Lady Baratheon sent a messenger to her eldest son’s room. Robert almost ran to the banquet hall when he was told to join his family. Instead, he strutted down the halls until he spotted his parents waiting for him. Baratheons were gluttonous by nature; the way they decorated the galleries and their bodies in preparation for Robert’s homecoming was proof of it. Cassana and Steffon Baratheon looked like they were attending a royal wedding, and with Renly by their feet like a porcelain doll, they presented the perfect picture of a noble family. Robert couldn’t help but laugh.

His mother saw his smirk and went up to greet him. “What are you laughing about, Robert?”

“Nothing,” he said. He kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful, mother.”

Cassana pouted at his secrecy. “Well, whatever it is, I hope it keeps you smiling all night. It makes you look more handsome.” Cassana beamed at her son. “I knew those robes would suit you.”

“That’s because they’re mine.” Steffon pointed out. He was grinning from ear to ear as he swung his arm around his wife “You look just me at your age.”

“Nonsense,” Robert snorted. Then, he smiled. “I look better.”

His father laughed, and Robert swore the ground shook. “Cocky, aren’t you?” Steffon patted his son’s shoulder. “Let’s hope the other lords appreciate your humor as much as I do.”

Robert was about to respond when his eye caught Renly tugging at their father’s pant leg. The giant of the man picked him up, increasing the empty space surrounding them. Robert looked around.

“Is there something wrong?”

Robert frowned. “Where is Stannis?”

“Oh, he’ll be late,” Cassana bemoaned as she explained his absence. “It was the strangest thing—maester Cressen barged into my chambers with the dress we prepared, declaring it unfit. We spent hours looking for one of mine to give Stannis, but in the end, had to settle for his blossoming robes. ‘Now is a good as time as any,’ Cressen told me.” She shook her head, disappointed. “We didn’t even have time to get measured. And he’s grown so much since we had it made, too…”

Robert peered into the room ahead; he could hear the increasing volume of their impatience. He considered offering to get him when Storm’s End maester came down the halls to inform them of Stannis’ arrival. The old omega cast a wary glance towards Robert as if he suspected the young man was somehow responsible for the change. Robert wondered what his brother told him. Probably nothing. The man was unfairly suspicious of the eldest Baratheon boy. Cressen loved Stannis like a son, and while this was not unusual for maesters, Robert thought Cressen overstepped his role as a guardian. The shrew never liked it when the brothers spent time together, and before Robert left for the Eyrie, he urged their separation. Robert assumed it had something to do with their Targaryen roots—he once heard the man play to his father’s fears, claiming Robert would do wicked things to Stannis as long as he was "allowed to practice his hold" on his younger brother.

It was ridiculous, Robert scoffed. He made his opinion clear when he dragged Stannis away from those dreaded embroidery lessons to play swords with him. Cressen would always get so upset when that happened, but he had no standing to forbid it. Robert was the eldest son, the only alpha, and he got what he wanted at all costs. 

Robert’s memories of victory were interrupted by his brother's entrance. Immediately, the second son was greeted by their mother’s astonishment. “Oh, Stannis, you look wonderful!”

The sincerity in the statement piqued Robert's intrigue. He turned to face his brother, only to be blocked by the bodies in front of him. He heard Stannis thank his mother, and his father make a comment about making sure his brother kept the alphas off him. Without thinking, Robert marched towards the center of the crowd, and upon the sight of his brother, was stunned still.

Stannis didn’t choose to wear a dress tonight. Instead, he took to a pair of the tightest pants Robert had ever seen on anyone, let alone an omega, and made his legs extend for miles. He wore a dark, midnight blue cloak that acted as a shawl wrapped around his shoulders. There were some vague designs embroidered onto his dressings, but the color was too similar to make out the actual picture. Besides his new wardrobe, Stannis’ already short hair was neatly styled and pushed away from those eyes Robert had praised so much. He was not pretty or beautiful as an omega was supposed to be, but his plainness faded as all his best features were accentuated to their highest appeal. 

“Robert, don’t just stand there. Tell him how lovely he looks,” his mother suggested. She pushed her middle son forward until he was almost in Robert’s arms.

Stannis looked up at him, waiting for a response.

Robert stared back. When no words escaped his mouth, his father cleared his throat. Robert gave his brother another once over, and those stunning blues met him again. He coughed. 

“You look lovely tonight.”

Stannis paused.

“Thank you." 

Neither of them said another word. Whether the interaction was satisfying for Cassana, or not, didn't matter. Robert extended his shoulder, and Stannis took it as expected. The two of them followed their parents to the banquet hall, where their guests awaited Outside, they could hear their parent being welcomed to full approval. They weren’t Tyrells or Tagaryens, but the Baratheons didn’t shy away from fanfare.

Both brothers walked towards the doors. Before they entered, Stannis asked for his honesty. “Mother isn’t here, so you may speak freely. Do I look foolish?”

Robert glanced at his younger brother, but the other boy only stared straight ahead. Despite being the picture of poise, Robert could tell he was anxious.

“No,” Robert answered. “I meant what I said.” He added after a beat. “I’m surprised you took my advice.” 

Stannis snorted. “I won’t deny I prefer this attire to a dress.”

“Is that all you won’t deny?”

Stannis still wasn't facing him. “Is there a confession you wish for?”

“No confession. You’re not on trial.”

“Then, I have nothing to say.”

“A shame,” Robert grinned. “There’s something I want to hear.”

“Ask, and we’ll see if I can answer.”

“Defensive, aren’t you? One would think you were the wronged party here.”

“Can there be a victim without a crime?” Stannis asked. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Yet I’ve done something right,” Robert retorted. “And I’ve received no thanks for my counsel.”

“Is that what you want from me? Thanks?”

Robert shrugged. “An admission of gratitude would be nice," he said playfully. 

“You want me to praise you?” Stannis asked. “Robert, I know you are a dog, but at least have a man's pride.”

Robert grabbed his arm and kept him from walking through the doors. “Admit that I was right.”

“You were right,” Stannis admitted readily. “Like a blind squirrel who found a nut in autumn.”

Despite the insult, Robert was feeling generous. He released his grip and moved it back to Stannis’ waist. “You’re lucky you’re pretty tonight.”

Stannis’s face was shrouded in darkness, and yet Robert can tell from the candlelight that his brother's face was red. The servants opened the doors for them. Applause rippled through the room as soon as they made their appearance. Robert grinned when he saw the decorations, all the chairs and tables were rearranged for a party full of food, drink, and dance. The music played loudly, and the liquor ran like a waterfall in Riverrun. Food was set upon every plate in the servants’ hands, and they were planted on the tables like flowers.

“They love you,” Stannis noted after a lord warmly welcomed Robert back. Their mother gestured them towards the dance floor, where they would have the first dance together. “I’ve never been looked at like this before.”

Robert said nothing. He noticed from the corner of his eye how a lord glanced over Stannis’ form, starting from the bottom of his bare ankles—made so by Stannis’ inevitable growth spurt—to the small of his back. The creeper was older than their father, and from the badge he wore, Robert recognized him as Lord Grandison. The man used to give them candy when he visited, and now he was looking at Stannis like he was a stranger in a brothel.

Pervert, Robert thought. He could have smashed the man’s head in with his fist if he wanted to.

The music began, and Stannis stumbled into the step. Robert pulled his brother closer when it looked like he might falter and led him through a presentable waltz.

“You don’t care about dancing?”

Stannis frowned as the music quicken. Robert moved well, and he added it onto a list of things he was inferior to his brother in. “I don’t practice much.”

“I can see that.” 

Stannis would have called him a cunt if he was bolder. Instead, he turned his head. “A shame I don’t look like you, Robert, or else I’d have my pick of partners." His lips pursed to a point where they were no longer there. "Though, we can both agree you could afford to be pickier.”

Robert licked his lips at the insult. “If you’re suggesting I wouldn’t turn you down for a dance, you’re right.” Robert pulled him in until their chests were touching. Stannis could feel Robert’s half-hard cock against his hips. “I have a strategy for omegas like you.” The prim and proper ones who turned their noses up at debauchery; but couldn’t open their legs fast enough when their pussies started to drool. 

Stannis scoffed. “I’m impressed you have a strategy to anything.”

“You’d be more impressed by how often it works,” Robert noted. 

"Would I?" Stannis asked dryly. 

Robert nodded. “First, I flatter them. Make them know I’m on the hunt for something new.” Robert’s hand on his lower back moved downward. Stannis’ breath hitched, but unable to make a scene, he allowed it. “Something special.”

Stannis ground his teeth. Robert wondered what would happen if he pried those lips open. "So special you've worked out a system to bed omegas like them?"

"They don't know that," Robert chuckled. “I’d say how they caught my eye. Maybe I saw them standing by themselves, all alone, all vulnerable. And I tell them how I had to speak to them. Then after I get them swooning, I suggest something is wrong, because how could such a lovely creature be so neglected if there wasn’t something wrong with them?”

“So, you get them high on sweet nothings before you push them down?" Stannis sneered. "Disgusting.”

“It is no fault of mine how they let alphas speak to them. Those sorts of omegas crave affection. Good boys and girls are pure because they keep a distance. Their sires and siblings are always watching them, making sure they behave, and it’s a mistake,” Robert told him. “Because now they’re starving for affection. They’ll do anything to prove their worth.” 

“And how would they prove it to you, Robert?” Stannis might not have been aware of it, but his hands were gripping onto Robert’s biceps. He was as involved in their intimacy as much as Robert now. “What would you make them do for you?”

“I don’t make them do anything. They want it.”

“And they don’t resist at all?” Stannis asked with a raised eyebrow.

Robert shrugged.

“Liar.” 

“They don’t mean it,” Robert retorted, much to Stannis’ scoff. “It’s the truth.” It was common knowledge around alphas that omegas only protested for show. To prove his point, Robert’s placed his finger against the surface of Stannis’ hole. Stannis gasped. “See? All it takes is one finger. I slip my hand inside their skirts and push the first one inside them, and there’s no turning back. They know how good it feels, and they know how much it makes me happy.” Robert explained as Stannis trembled against him. “Good omegas want their alphas to be happy.”

“And I bet they’re happy afterward, too.” Stannis looked up at him through his dark lashes. “When they realized they'd traded their cunts for a compliment.”

“I’ve gotten no grievances.”

“No one complains about a faulty cock.” 

Robert laughed—loudly. “And here I thought you were beyond filth,” he growled. He stared at his brother in delight. “I wonder how long it would take to get inside you.”

“You can ask my husband after our wedding night.” 

“You think your betrothed will wait that long?” Robert licked his lips. “If I were promised your hand, I wouldn’t risk not being your first. The conquest would be too great.”

“Not all alphas are like you.”

“All alphas are like me.”

The music reached its end. Stannis stared at his brother for a moment, thinking of a proper response, only to back away in silence. His submission unnerved Robert, and before his younger brother could leave, Robert grasped onto his wrist. 

“Would you call me a monster if I told you the truth?” Robert asked.

Stannis raised an eyebrow. “I’ll call you worse now.”

Robert chuckled, but the moment of amusement was enough time for an alpha to interrupt their conversation. He was older than both of them by almost a decade, and his eyes focused on Stannis. “Forgive my interruption, Lord Robert, but would you mind if I danced with your little brother?”

Yes, Robert almost growled at the stranger.

“Of course, Lord Fell,” Stannis replied. Before he walked away, he turned to Robert. “I believe our duties have been performed.” He paused. “You are free, Robert.”

Robert watched the bumbling lord take Stannis away from him. The musicians started again. It was clear Stannis was not comfortable with the new arrangement, and Lord Fell already looked like he regretted his invitation. Robert turned away just as the man was about to place his unwelcomed hand on Stannis’ waist. This song was quicker than the last, and Robert was already counting the seconds till it finished.

To avoid thinking about it, Robert soon found a conversation his father was having with the other lords. After Steffon reintroduced his eldest son and heir, the lord praised Robert for his performance.

“Stannis hates dancing, but you’ve made him look like a gazelle. Half the alphas in the room have asked for my permission to dance with him.” He patted his boy on the back. “You did well. We might even get a proposal before his actual ceremony.”

The praise made Robert’s hand balled up into a fist. “Is he that boring you wish to get rid of him tonight?” 

His father laughed loudly and gave his son a wink. “Let’s just say tonight is important for all my children.”

Robert didn’t say a word in response—instead, he moved away to find his own crowd of peers. When he found one, Robert made sure to be the center of attention. The alpha amongst alphas he was raised to be. During the conversation, one of Robert’s cousins, Aemon Estermont, noticed Stannis’ newfound popularity and made a comment when a new lord went to take his hand.

Robert didn’t even look at him. “Why should I care if my brother makes a whore of himself?” he asked as he drowned his first glass of wine.

***

Robert was not without dancing partners. The first was a young lady who was as pure and pious as they came, and though an ant could challenge her intellect, Robert found her piety amusing. Robert convinced her to join him in talking more deeply about the Gods in an empty room. There, he suggested the truest worship was on one’s knees. Once she was on the ground, he slipped his cock into her mouth, and when she tried to pull away, he held her in place until she was choking on his cock. She got more into the act when his cock hit her throat, and though she gagged, she made up for it in effort. Robert decided to remember her house for the future. His second partner of the night was the wife of a minor lord—a filthy thing who talked about his husband's absence with glee. The lord was a friend of his mother, and after Robert fucked him in a nearby room, he skipped over to Robert’s parents to continue a conversation with their son’s cum dripping down his thighs. Robert fingered the third until she was scared off by a serving girl who had caught them _in flagrante_. Robert demanded his servant made up for a lost conquest with her quim and had her continue her duties that night with a limp.

Robert’s encounters did not go unnoticed by his new friends. Upon his return from the fourth girl, his cousin pulled him back to report his exploits. Robert loved this part of a party—the part where he got to be at the center of it. They cheered him on as he spoke about his conquests’ wet cunts, their soft protests, and the coy smile they gave before they opened up their quims to him. There was always an omega or two who would overhear and get curious. Most who approached Robert were the typical omegas, the ones who begged him not to tell until he was stuffing a cock down their throats. They knew full well he’d be giving their names to his friends, and after he did, those friends would ask for a taste as well. It wouldn’t be long before more people found out and tried their luck. They were all successful, up until the point the omegas learned that saying yes once didn’t mean they couldn’t say no again. If their fathers were smart, they would marry them off to salvage what little reputation they had left. If they were stupid, those families would expect a surprise nine months down the road from whatever peddler was in town that year.

Those omegas made up the majority of Robert’s conquests, but he had many other types. The daft ones who’d had many partners before him and were usually first bedded by someone like him. The bored ones, often trapped in their provincial lives, with their boring husbands, and even more boring children. Robert had a special place in his heart for whores—his first time was in a brothel, a treat for his twelfth nameday. Even the ones that made him want to check for pox were thought upon fondly. When his cock was cold, or he wanted hard fucking, he sought out the conniving ones—the ones who wanted to try their hand at chaining down Robert Baratheon. He gave it to them rough, because he liked watching them wince, and he didn’t feel bad about it because it was what they deserved for trying to use him.

Their deception contrasted the honesty of Robert’s favorites. The proper ones. These were the ones who never met an alpha’s eyes but made the most beautiful expressions when they came. Robert was usually their first, and they were so tightly wound, he could come from their lower grips alone. He liked how they denied him afterward, and it made him seek them out a second time just to prove they'd let him have another go. Robert gloated about such omegas in his dance with Stannis, knowing full well the resemblance would spark some heat within his brother. If he were a stranger, Robert would have taken Stannis in the same way.

Robert thought about regaling a similar tale to his friends when he decided a more entertaining story was due. He moved on to describe an encounter in Dorne with twin bastards and their friend. The alphas were eating his every word, from the hot dunes to the pointed nipples on their chests. Robert was interrupted near the climax of his story when a pretty maiden came up to him. She asked if he would be her partner for the group dance, and though her smile was shy and her demeanor reserved, Robert could see the fangs slipping out of her mouth.

One of those, Robert thought with a lick of his lips. Nonetheless, he gave her once over, and she was admittingly one of the prettiest people he’d seen tonight: perfect hair, perfect face, and perfect breasts to mark all over. Given the circumstances, Robert had to be a bit gentler with his other partners tonight, but he wouldn’t have to be with this one. 

“I look forward to it, my lady.”

The girl smiled, bowed, and made her way to her friends to proclaim her victory. She wasn’t an expert in seduction yet—she showed her back too soon. Robert would have fun teaching her a lesson.

“She’s the prettiest omega I’ve ever seen!” One of the lords sighed in disbelief. “If the gods were to give me your face for a night…”

“You’d still have the problem down south,” Robert finished for him. The others laughed at the jest, but one man asked for his secret.

“They know of your reputation. You’ve littered the kingdom with ruined cunts, and still, they seek you out.” The man shook his head. “Am I missing something? How are they so willing to debase themselves on your behalf?”

“The fact that you ask is the problem.” Robert finished his fourth glass tonight. He set it down on a nearby tray and grabbed another cup from a serving boy. When he was about to leave, Robert, either to prove a point or his inebriation, grabbed the boy’s ass. The little thing yelped, before staying still and waiting for his master to be finished. After Robert was satisfied, he let the cheek go, and the boy bowed and left. “You treat omegas as if they’re these sacred, untouchable beings when, in reality, the lot of them are little more than whores with titles.” Robert explained, “You let them have the power, and they will reign it over you.”

Robert drank his wine, letting everyone take his words as gospel. The heir was about to tell them another tale of his exploits when his eye caught Stannis was introduced to a stranger. This one did not belong to the stormlands, but Robert didn't recognize the sigil. It was like watching a clandestine meeting from afar. Their parents were beaming as if Stannis had won a prize. If that wasn't cause for worry, their maester was also smiling. 

Robert wasn’t fond of maesters. He thought them pitiful creatures; their fates sad and their company worse. Omegas should be bred and taken care of, and yet instead of instilling these values into the ones capable of producing thought, they sent them the Citadel. There, they were forced into vows of chastity, forbidden from ever knowing an alpha’s touch. It was a tragedy. Robert learned, however, that his opinion towards these omegas were better left unspoken. When Robert spoke his condolences as a child, Stannis would call him an ignorant fool and ignored him until he apologized. When Robert did so in the Eyrie, it was Ned who did the scolding, for he was rather fond of Winterfell’s new maester and didn’t care for any insults directed towards them. Robert couldn’t understand how such odd creatures could wrap his brothers under their spell. The problem was paradoxical in nature; Robert never met an omega who didn’t want him, but at the same time, he never met a maester who liked him.

And Robert never met a maester who _smiled like that_ before. 

“Aemon,” Robert addressed. “Come here.”

Aemon startled. “Robert?”

“Do you recognize that man?”

His cousin followed his gaze. “The one speaking to your brother?”

“Yes,” Robert gritted out.

Aemon nodded. “That is Lord Symond Staunton, the head of House Saunton. He is the Master of laws on the small council, alongside your father.”

“The small council? He’s come here from King’s Landing?” Robert frowned. “What is he doing here?”

“Well, your father has been appointed Master of ships—”

“I know that,” Robert interrupted, irritated. Last year, King Aerys II Targaryen, summoned Steffon to court and named him Master of ships. The gesture was considered both an act of affectionate towards Aerys’ longtime friend and cousin, and a slight against Tywin Lannister. Even in the Vale, Robert had heard rumors of Aerys’ intention to replace Tywin Lannister as Hand of the King, and it was clear who the likely candidate was. Following the Defiance of Duskendale, Aerys’ madness had spiraled to great lengths, and he no longer allowed anyone within arm’s length of his body unless he trusted them with his life. Steffon was one of the few people who could still speak to the Mad King. The love between House Targaryen and House Lannister was lost, and it was clear that the dragons were eager to wage war with the lions. Placing Steffon on the council was the first step of many to overthrow his hand’s position, and potentially ruin what may be the second most powerful house in Westeros.

“Why has a member of the small council come to my homecoming ceremony?” Robert asked.

“To welcome you?” 

“You think he came all the way from King’s Landing to welcome me, and yet he’s not even said hello?” Robert asked, staring at him like the man just told him two ducks together made a goose. He turned back to his family, most notable Stannis, and the intense conversation the two seem to be having. Despite Stannis’ lack of expression, Lord Symond seemed to be having the time of his life. “What are they talking about?”

An uncomfortable silence passed amongst the crowd. Aemon looked towards his friends for relief, and when they could not assist him, he turned back to Robert. He winced. “Perhaps… the rumors are true?”

Robert snapped his attention back at them. “Rumors?” 

“Well...yes.” His cousin shuffled his feet. “It is no secret that the King is fond of your father, Robert." 

"Yes, they're friends." Since childhood, in fact. Their father used to tell him and Stannis tales of their adventures. 

"But beyond friendship, they are blood. Your grandmother was a Tagaryen. And if there is anything the Tagaryens want, it is to maintain the purity of their bloodline.” Aemon looked over at Stannis, whose cloak was being admired and raised to match the blues of his eye. “The prince only has an alpha brother.”

“We’re Baratheons,” Robert growled at them. It didn’t matter who their grandmother was—Stannis was pure Baratheon, from the ink in his hair to the ocean in his eyes. They were children of the storm, riders of the stag, but they were not dragon spawn. “The rumors are wrong.” 

Aemon sighed. “Robert—”

“Stannis hasn’t even blossomed yet,” Robert informed them. “He is a child in the eyes of the law. It would be a crime.” Anger was good for breeding ignorance. Robert didn't even try to touch the topic of Stannis' eventual adulthood. “Besides, why would the king send my parents to Essos if he was interested in Stannis?”

His cousin’s lips opened to answer, but his friend touched his shoulder and shook his head. Robert didn’t pay attention to the action; he was too focused on Stannis and the way he looked tonight. The eldest Baratheon regretted not keeping his mouth shut. Stannis looked too much like an adult in those robes, and he wasn’t. No matter how well his body filled out, he was not ready to bear children any more than Renly was.

“Well, that’s likely part of the ploy,” spoke someone from the group. Immediately, the lord speaking was shot with half a dozen glares. They tried to will the fool’s mouth shut, but the alpha seemed oblivious to the growing tension. “We all know Tywin Lannister won’t be happy if it’s true.” 

Silence befell them all.

Robert took a step forward, and they swore the music paused in that second. “What?”

"Uh, I, well..." Realizing his error, the lord attempted to excuse himself, but Robert grabbed him with a grip hard enough to break bone, and demanded he speak.

The man trembled as he referred to the tournament in honor of Prince Viserys's birth. They’ve all heard the story. During the last feast, King Aerys rejected Tywin's offer to marry Prince Rhaegar to his only daughter. Aerys claimed Tywin was a servant, and “a man does not marry his heir to his servant's daughter.” If the king did intend to make Steffon the new Hand, there would be no greater insult than to have Stannis as the future queen.

The slight would be worthy of war.

“I heard from my father’s friend in court, that after you are prepared to rule Storm End’s, your father will return to King’s Landing.” He winced. “_With_ Stannis in tow.”

Once the news hit, everyone made a choice to back away from the heir. They could see his muscles expand as alphas tended to do before a fight. They swore he gained an inch in height, and they could see the smoke fuming from his nostrils as he snarled. Stannis must have felt his gaze, for his younger brother turned to him.

Their blues eyes met, and the world stopped for Robert.

Stannis turned away when the music started again. Robert drank the last of his wine. Fuck his parents. Fuck the maesters. And fuck the king.

He shoved the empty goblet into his cousins’ hand and marched towards his brother. 

“Lord Robert—” he heard someone call out. Robert ignored the speaker. When the lady tried to catch his attention, his shoulder almost knocked her off balance. Robert resumed his path until he appeared in front of Stannis.

“Oh, Robert, you’re here!” His mother chimed. “Have you met—”

“Get into the line,” Robert ordered his brother.

“No,” Stannis replied automatically.

“Get into the line. We’re going to dance.”

“Why?”

Robert glared. “Because I want to dance.”

“This is a lover’s dance,” Stannis reminded him. He gave Robert a once over. “And you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You smell like Dorne during a harvest.”

“I’m not drunk,” Robert snapped. “Now, will you stop behaving like a bitch and dance with me?”

"Robert!" His father roared. The noise drew a great deal of attention towards them forcing Stannis stepped in. For such a merciless creature, he did like to play mediator.

“Fine,” Stannis told Robert. He took his brother’s hand. “I don’t need you making a fool of our house.”

Robert walked Stannis to the floor. The dance had already started, but it was easy enough to join in. The beginning of the dance was to find a partner, after all, and so the two of them simply waltzed into the middle. As they danced, Robert asked what their family was discussing so fervently.

“Small talk,” Stannis answered distastefully. “The kingdom’s finances, father’s performance on the small council, how the king appreciates his wisdom…”

“And the prince?”

Stannis raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t come up.”

Robert scoffed and changed the topic. “Why is Lord Symond here?”

“He’s visiting father.”

“Visiting father or visiting you?”

Stannis ground his teeth. “Why would he want to visit me?”

“You know why.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked,” Stannis stated. “If you’re going to interrogate someone, at least guarantee they have the answers you seek. Otherwise, you’re wasting everyone’s time.” The song wasn’t over yet, but Stannis was already pulling away.

Robert held onto him, desperate to claim his ground. “There’s been talk of you joining father in King’s Landing,” Robert explained. “Apparently, the king wants to see _you_ in court.”

Robert wasn’t sure what response he would receive from Stannis, but the sigh of displeasure was not it. “Oh, that.”

“That?” Robert mocked angrily. “So, the rumors are true?"

"What rumors?"

"The rumors about marrying you to the prince?”

“They’re not rumors, Robert.” Stannis ground his teeth. “They’re stories. They came from nothing." 

"Nothing begets nothing. This story came from something," Robert remarked angrily. 

Stannis sighed. "The two of them were having dinner, and a maid overheard the king ask father about my blossoming. Now, I am a contender for consort.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“True or not, it has nothing to do with me.”

“_Your_ marriage has nothing to do with _you_?” Robert asked. 

“No, it doesn’t.” Stannis snapped. “Until my husband usurps the throne, father is my lord and king, and I will do what he commands.”

“Especially if it means becoming queen?” Robert sneered.

“_Even if_ it means becoming queen,” Stannis corrected. “The right of our lordship is only kept through the dedication of our duty. My duty is to be a good son, and eventually, a good wife. Whether the latter is to a prince or pauper, it matters little in the passion of my performance.”

Stannis ripped his body away at that moment. The timing was perfect, for the music changed to the third part, where they were expected to move to the opposite ends of the dance floor and pick a new partner. Stannis may lack the social graces to maintain a conversation, but he had a killer instinct for timing. Traditionally, if the original partners met during the fourth transition, it was a sign of the partners belonged together. A fun mythos for the younger lords and ladies, but all Robert could see was Stannis leaving him to find another.

Robert wasn’t ashamed to admit it struck a nerve. His brother was his, and he wasn’t going to allow him to walk away so easily. The two of them walked in a circle as the tempo sped up, urging others to find a mate soon. Their eyes met, but it was long before Stannis reached forward to take another’s hand. Robert ignored the incoming figure after his own. Numerous bodies crossed to meet one another. Robert couldn’t complain about the blockage—without it, the disapproving expressions of his father and mother and of course, maester fucking Cressen, would have long been able to interfere. Instead, he walked faster. Stannis was already in the arms of another, but Robert wouldn’t have it. He tore Stannis away from the lady—an alpha from a house far minor to their own and dragged him out of the room.

“What are you doing, Robert?”

Robert kept on walking. He wanted to get as far away as possible before anyone could catch up. The second the dance ended, father would send a search party after them.

“Let go of me!” Stannis shouted. “I am warning you, Robert!”

When the distance was great enough, Robert stopped in his tracks. He turned to see Stannis fuming, and was barely taken back when his brother struck him across the face.

“Are you mad?” Stannis asked angrily. “What was the purpose of this abduction?”

Robert noticed their resemblance increased significantly in anger. Given light of the circumstances, it was oddly satisfying to see. “I wanted to speak to you.”

“Here? In the middle of a darkened hallway like two thieves?”

“I wanted privacy. It’s quiet.”

“It’s gruesome! If you weren’t my brother, this would end with me being raped in the pissing closet and thrown into the sea.”

“Ra—? I swear, you’re more dramatic than a tantrum sometimes,” Robert accused. “If you want to leave, you can leave.”

Stannis turned his heel and started to walk away. Robert quickly grabbed his arm and spun him around.

Irritation was clear on Stannis’ face. He crossed his arms to avoid rubbing his temples. “Robert,” he warned. “I’ve warned you about trying to be funny.”

“Well, you’re a humorless cunt.”

“And you’re a drunken beast.”

“Yet somehow, we were still the most tolerable people at that party,” Robert said with a grin. He spread his arms wide. “Why not have a moment to celebrate?”

“Because the celebrations are inside.” Stannis took a deep breath, but he was far less angry than before. “What did you want to say to me that you couldn’t say at the party?”

“I…” Robert paused. He wasn’t sure he’d get this far. Looking at his surroundings, Robert noticed he wasn't far away from one of his favorite rooms. “I can’t tell you.”

“Of course not,” Stannis gritted out.

“I mean, I can’t tell you here.” Robert took a step forward. He looked deep into Stannis’ eyes. “Let us go somewhere private, and I will pour my heart to you.” 

Stannis looked back into his eyes. “No.”

Robert sighed. “Stannis. An hour’s conversation and we can return in peace.”

“I am not going to negotiate with my kidnapper, nor will I humor you in your quest to ruin what is left of your reputation.”

If it was anyone else, Robert could work his charms, until this stubborn oak was little more than a splinter. But this was Stannis Baratheon; Robert would find a way between the Maiden’s legs before his brother’s good graces. Robert moved forward and ripped his undershirt so loudly, the tear echoed throughout the halls.

“What are you doing?” Stannis hissed. He tried to push him away, but Robert grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. He pushed their chests close enough to bathe in each other’s breath. Robert could even smell the wine from mouth now.

“Ruining you,” Robert whispered. God, Stannis felt good in his hands. He was burning up from the struggle, and Robert could see his bare skin peeking out. “Keep fighting me, and I’ll make a mess of this cloak, too. Then you can explain to our esteemed guests why you’ve come back wearing tatters, looking like you’ve gotten the fuck of your life.”

Stannis glared up at him. “I can change.”

“Into what? You’d still have to explain why.” Robert let go. Stannis stumbled back, and before he could say anything, Robert continued, “You said it yourself. Rumors can come from nothing, and I have few things to say that would get their imaginations running wild.”

Stannis ground his teeth. “If it will end your madness, lead the way.”

***

Robert took Stannis to the castle’s indoor training quarters. The stormlands were aptly named, and the weather conditions made certain activities impossible. Without these rooms, there wouldn’t be a single man available for their armies—they’d all be blown away by the winds. But it was always his favorite room, but Robert was impressed he remembered the way after seven years.

Stannis was less impressed. “Only you would have the gaud to bring a hostage into a room full of swords.”

“Will you stop calling yourself that?” Robert asked.

“I am here against my will. That is the definition of a hostage.”

“You could run.”

“You’d chase me.”

Robert chuckled. “I would.” He continued to look around the room.

Stannis watched him, curious. “What are you looking for?”

Robert didn’t answer. He had a one-track mind; Stannis knew full well the alpha wouldn’t speak until he found it. Finally, Robert came back to his younger brother. Stannis was alarmed when Robert revealed two swords. He handed Stannis one.

“Have you ever held real steel before?”

“No.” Stannis hesitated. Then, he took the offered weapon.

“What do you think?”

“It’s heavy.”

“Do you hate it?”

Stannis paused. Finally, he said, “No.”

Stannis held the sword in his hand, fascinated by the weight. It was a good look for him and did more for his appearance than any ring would. “Father would never allow this.” 

“Father isn’t here.” Robert took off his shirt to reveal his rippling muscles. Stannis was taken out of thoughts when he heard the bulk of Robert’s jacket hit the ground. 

“I thought you wanted us to speak.”

“I find the best conversation accompanies a good fight.”

“That’s because you’re a brute.”

“True,” Robert agreed. “But you like it rough.” The heir unsheathed his sword. The steel was more menacing in the candlelight.

Stannis gripped his handle. “You want us to fight? Using real steel?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t be able to beat you,” Stannis declared. He wasn’t flattering Robert but stating the obvious.

Robert laughed; though his vision stopped bleeding red, the wine hadn’t left his body. “I’m not at my best right now.”

Stannis should have run. Instead, he stood there, chained to the ground with captivation. Stannis gave his brother another once over. His eyes, which were normally so sharp with critique, were now glossy with intrigue. Robert was over six feet of muscle and masculinity, and without his shirt on, Stannis was faced with every ripple and curve of his brother’s chest. The younger Baratheon could see the sweat dripping down his abdomen, following the lines until it reached Robert’s V, and threatened to go lower. Robert watched his brother’s gaze dip, and his cock hardened at the attention.

Stannis couldn’t help but lick his lips. “You’ve gotten so big.”

For a second, Robert considered taking out his cock to show his little brother what else was big about him. He’d probably enjoy the view. Instead, the heir unsheathed his sword and pointed the weapon at his brother. He took a step closer and pressed the steel against the clasp that held the cloak together.

Stannis didn’t move an inch. Robert responded to his stillness by running his sword down his chest. Stannis couldn’t tear his eyes away from his brother’s face.

“I don’t recognize this design.”

Usually, their clothing bore several stags, all in different positions of prancing, surrounded by shapes and flowers. Up close, Robert could see it was made up of scenes, not patterns.

“It’s a tale of the Seven. It’s not even in the book. Maester Cressen told me about it.”

Robert could only imagine what lessons the hag implored onto his brother. “What was it about?”

“The Maiden,” Stannis answered softly. “How she once had an alpha companion, who would hunt in her name and offer her gifts. Upon seeing her naked form in a spring, he was overcome with lust. He attempted to force himself on her and was turned into a stag and devoured by his hounds.”

“What a lesson to learn: Be wary of alphas who claim to be your friend, for they all want to fuck you.” Robert laughed. “When did he tell you this story?”

“After we were told you would be back for my ceremony.” 

Robert's smile dropped, before rising again in a half-grimace. 

Fucking cunt, Robert mused darkly. It wouldn’t take a maester to figure out that Stannis was warned against his own brother. Robert responded by cutting through the clasp on Stannis’ cloak. The action dropped the outer layer on the floor and revealed Stannis’ ripped undershirt. Peeking through the fabric was a flat, bare midriff, and flawless with the potential for many stretch marks in the future. Robert wondered how much it would take to convince Stannis to take his shirt off so his brother could see the full span of skin.

“It’s hot in here.”

Stannis agreed. He kept his shirt and unsheathed his sword.

“Worth a shot,” he muttered to himself.

“What was that, Robert?”

“Nothing.”

Robert walked into position, and Stannis followed on the opposite side. Despite his initial reluctance, Stannis seemed eager to start as well. “First one on his back loses?” he suggested. 

“As true of many aspects of life,” Robert responded. It was meant as a joke, but Stannis took the comment seriously; he nodded with his eye on Robert’s sword.

Robert fought like he did all things in life—with more power than forethought. If he could, he always made the first move. Every master-at-arms warned their soldiers otherwise that doing so was reckless and stupid. But Robert was neither of those things when it came to a good fight. He knew better than anyone that his advantage was his strength. He could crush an alpha’s skull with his bare hands, and their ribcages with his feet. If he made the first move, he could have the other men on the ground before they even raised their sword.

Many believed Stannis fought with his mind—which was the way for omegas who took up the sword. But they forgot how powerful Stannis was; he was clearly above the average omega in terms of physicality, and even a few average alphas. Being weaker than Robert didn’t mean he was weak. It was why Stannis could be liberal with his strategy.

Stannis waited for his brother to attack first, and when he did, the weight of the sword pushed Stannis back several steps. Robert attacked again and was met with a second parry. When he did so again, Robert knew something was wrong. Stannis didn’t seem surprised or worried. He was being pushed back with two more strikes until he hit the wall. When Robert made another hit, Stannis used the wall as a surface to roll to the other side to dodge Robert’s next attack. The force of Robert’s strike had a ricochet effect, and Robert was knocked off his balance with his attack. He stumbled backward, which Stannis took advantage of by striking the handle of his sword. 

The move was smart but premature. Stannis managed to strike the handle, but when the steel threatened to touch Robert’s grip, he put all his strength into swinging the iron across his body. The wind alone could have knocked someone off their feet. Stannis fell almost immediately, but before his back could hit the ground, he twisted his body, so his elbow broke the fall. He got up before he could taste defeat. Robert was about to make another move when he saw the damage his swing had done. Stannis had backed off before any serious injury could, but the tip of blade scratched his face. “Stannis,” He called out, as the blood dripped down his brother’s face. Any other omega would have fit. Only Stannis would use his brother’s distraction to disarm him.

Robert’s steel flew out of his hand, and before he could compose himself, his brother opted for another swing. There was a hint of a smile on Stannis’ face as the taste of victory came upon him. Instinct overwhelmed Robert, and he fought back harder. Robert grabbed his brother’s wrist before any blows could be made and threw him onto the ground.

Stannis gasped out in pain. Before he could recuperate, Robert lunged onto him. He straddled his hips. His weight should have been enough to keep his brother still, but Robert was a creature of excess. He grabbed his brother’s throat.

“Yield,” Robert growled. Stannis struggled to get him off; he couldn’t even kick his feet. When his nails scraped the first layer of Robert’s skin, Robert pushed him further into the ground. “_Yield_.”

Stannis glared at him. Despite the collar around his neck, his eyes didn’t lose their fire for a second. “I,” he choked out. “I…yi…eld.” 

A thrill ran down Robert’s spine. He almost let go, but Stannis’ throat started to pulse in his hand, and it felt so good, he thought about going harder instead. Robert wondered how tight his brother’s body must be, and how easy it would be to find out. When Stannis’s body became limp underneath him, Robert had no choice but to release him.

Stannis’ arched his back against Robert while he had his coughing fit. Drool dripped from his mouth. Robert could see the bruises on his neck now that his hand wasn’t covering them. He listened to Stannis choke on air, the wet sounds of slick and stuffing came with every heaving breath as Stannis’ throat extended to take in more. 

He looked so lewd, Robert thought.

Stannis recovered only to glare at him. “That’s because you’re a pervert.”

It was then Robert realized he had spoken out loud. He thought about what to say, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from those thin lips. They were so wet now.

Robert used his thumb to wipe away the leftover spittle. He traced his brother’s mouth, pushing down on the lower lip before pressing the tip of his finger against his brother's teeth. Stannis didn’t let him inside his wet, hot mouth.

“Have you ever been kissed by an alpha?” Robert asked.

Stannis couldn’t answer. He almost thought he was choking again. Robert’s cock was straining against his hips, and he finally realized how vulnerable he truly was. Stannis wanted to believe that Robert wouldn’t sink so low as to violate his own brother, but that would mean lying to himself. And Stannis hated ignorance. “Robert—”

Stannis gagged around Robert’s fingers. His brother pushed two inside his mouth until it hit the back of his throat.

“The answer is no,” Robert told him. “You’ve never kissed an alpha until tonight.”

Robert removed his hand from Stannis’ mouth. Before his brother could protest, Robert captured his lips in a searing kiss. Stannis moaned against his mouth. Robert learned at this moment how weak his brother was against pleasure. As soon as Robert’s tongue touched the parting of those lips, Stannis opened up for him. He stopped thinking straight. His hands moved to entangle themselves in Robert’s hair, and Robert responded by holding onto his face. The two kissed until Stannis, so deliciously inexperienced, ran out of air.

He acted as if Robert had choked him again. Robert waited until he had time to breathe before leaning in for another kiss.

Stannis quickly turned his head.

“We…we can’t.” Stannis avoided his eyes. “This is wrong.”

“It’s just a kiss." As if it was commonplace for two brothers to engage in such acts. Robert tried for a kiss again, only to be denied once more.

“We shouldn’t be alone together. It’s been too long since we’ve been apart. Our bodies don’t know we’re…ah…!”

Robert pressed kisses on his brother’s spotted neck. Stannis’ hands flew up to grab onto Robert, but his willpower held him back. This can’t happen, he told himself. He willed his hands into fists and forced them onto the floor.

Robert wouldn’t stop attacking his resistance. If anything, it encouraged him to work harder. He started sucking on his flesh. Stannis’ bruises were already so sensitive against outside sensation that his brother’s touch felt like heaven on top of hell.

So good, Stannis thought, everything was so blurry, and his body was melting under his brother’s touch. Everything was so hot; his sweat was even dripping down his thighs.

“We’re brothers,” Robert repeated as a matter of fact. “There should be no one you trust more with your body.” 

Fuck, if that wasn’t reasoning that could ruin a man of law. The next time Robert tried to kiss him, he wouldn’t be able to resist. Stannis closed his eyes and prepared for the next onslaught, only for the door to slam open with an aghast scream.

***

The two brothers found themselves in the maester's office. 

“It’s superficial,” maester Cressen announced once he finished Stannis’ inspection. The cut on his face was cleaned up with bandages and aids. “Looks worse than it is. I expect it will heal within the week.”

“Will there be scarring?” His mother asked in horror.

“Mother, it’s only a flesh wound. It doesn’t even hurt.”

His mother glared at her eldest omega. Both Baratheons could tell what was on the tip of her tongue. That, it didn’t matter if his wound hurt or not if it left a scar. An omega’s worth was in his looks, and with Stannis’ face as it is, he was devalued.

“The wound is very thin,” the maester answered. “I don’t foresee a mark.”

Their mother sighed with relief. She turned back to Stannis. “What were you thinking, sparring at your brother’s homecoming party? Wrestling on the ground like animals? If anyone else had caught you, they would have assumed the worst! Stannis, you’re smarter than this!”

Steffon sighed. “Cassana, it wasn’t Stannis’ fault—”

“Oh, I know who is responsible for this madness,” Cassana snapped. She glared at her eldest son, lounging at the other room. “That doesn’t absolve Stannis of the blame. Heat or not, he is about to become an adult. He needs to start worrying about his status and less about his swordsmanship.” Cassana looked ready to rip her hair out. “He chose to bend to Robert’s whims, and now, he has the mark to prove it.”

Steffon attempted to calm his wife down. While their parents conversed amongst themselves, the two Baratheons boys were left on opposite sides of the room. Stannis looked over at Robert, who met his gaze. The heir then licked his lips and glanced down at Stannis’ crotch, which was a soaking mess mere minutes ago. Stannis tightened his thighs and turned away.

His mother was right. He was a fool, Stannis thought. 

When their servants were unable to find them, maester Cressen had volunteered for the task. He caught them on the ground, entangled in each other’s limbs. Fortunately, Robert was used to being caught amid passions. He got off Stannis’ body with leisure, offering their maester a lighthearted tale about spar between two brothers that got out of hand. Whether the aging omega believed him or not was of no importance. It was the story he told their parents upon their return to the party. Their mother had told them to leave at once and dragged the two into the maester's workplace where she could inspect Stannis’ injury, and yell at her sons with liberty.

Finally, Stannis got up from his seat. “This is pointless.”

“Where are you going?” His mother asked as Stannis retrieved his cloak from the table. 

“I am returning to the celebrations,” he answered while pinning the fabric together. “Our house is the host, and a Baratheon presence is owed.” 

Cassana looked like she was choking. “But your scar? And your shirt—”

“My cloak will cover the rip, and my scar can be explained with the truth. If my appearance still offends you, then it is within your right to send me to my room.”

Stannis waited for a response.

When they didn’t give the command, he bowed before making his exit. Robert watched him go, admiring the curve of his ass as he did so. It may have been the lighting, but he swore he saw a stain between those thighs. Robert wasn’t surprised their maester followed. Perhaps, he wanted a moment alone with his favorite child, or maybe he wished to interrogate Stannis on the truth of what happened. Gods know he didn’t believe a word coming from Robert’s filthy mouth. Robert couldn’t tell what the result would be, and he didn’t know what he wanted more. It was a thrill for them to have this secret, a lust worth betraying their familt for, but it was also more amusing to watch the man who loathed him be powerless to stop his beloved child’s corruption.

The only way to find out was to wait. Robert returned to the party with his parents and found the girl he ignored in favor of Stannis. Despite her beauty, Robert found her lackluster. She thought herself a clever minx, relying on her appearance to make up for her tired old lines to seduce him. Robert obliged her for the first dance, wondering how he could excuse both of them when his eye caught Stannis again. He was talking to Lord Symond, who stared at his scar with great interest. Far from horrified by his appearance, he seemed entranced. Robert tightened his grip on the girl’s wrist, ignoring the yelp of pain she released.

Stannis wore his scar like a sigil. He wasn’t ashamed of it, and if anything, he seemed more open to conversation. Normally, he was ignored as plain. But warrior omegas tended to draw attention. His brother wasn’t good with people, but Stannis could talk anyone under the table when it came to strategy. More people flocked to him—all older, and mostly married alphas were listening to him speak. Robert wasn’t a paranoid man, but he didn’t care for the look the maester sent his brother’s way.

***

Near the end of the party, Robert had the opportunity to confront the shrew. He chose not to make a scene, and instead moved beside the maester. Maester Cressen did not seem surprised by his presence, but the two did not meet each other’s eyes. They focused on Stannis and how he assisted his mother in sending off their guests. The last one to bid farewell was the Master of laws. When he kissed Stannis’ hand, Robert spoke. 

“It’s a pity I wasn’t able to meet Lord Symond tonight.”

“Yes," Maester Cressen agreed. "He is an interesting man.”

“Perhaps that will change in the future. I’ve been thinking of taking a trip to King’s Landing—I haven’t been there since I was a child.”

“The city is different from Storm’s End,” Cressen informed. “You might not like it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The air is different. Not like Storm’s End or the Eyrie. It’s dirtier.” Cressen refused an offered glass of wine. Robert did not. “Besides, the politics would bore you.”

“I should warn Stannis, then,” Robert noted casually. “He hates politics.”

Maester Cressen tried not to react, but Robert could see the tension in his spine. “You could,” Maester Cressen agreed. “But such advice would be wasted." 

"You don't think he would listen?" 

"I don't think he would care." Maester Cressen revealed, "Your father has already promised Stannis’ attendance in court this year. And your brother has never broken a promise.”

Robert snorted to cover up his irritation. “Well, I must make sure I am in attendance when that happens.” He’d kill for some more wine. “For his protection,” he added.

“For his protection,” the maester repeated. “You’re a good brother to care so much of your brother’s honor. I have a feeling it will be at great risk following his blossoming.”

Robert licked his lips. No matter the atmosphere, his cock would always respond at the mention of Stannis’ threatened virtue. His arousal urged his aggression.

“Have you ever been fucked before, maester Cressen?” Robert asked out of the blue.

“No, Lord Robert.” If the maester was offended or surprise, he didn’t show it He answered cooly,. “I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“But, you are aware it is a pleasure?”

“Not as aware as you, it seems..” 

Robert chuckled darkly. He raised his hand to order some of the remaining wine glasses. “I’m did not mean to insult you, maester Cressen, I actually admire your dedication to your vows.” The servant handed him a glass and gave him a look of approval as he left. “Most omegas aren’t so devoted.”

“You speak as if you’ve gotten to know any omegas,” Maester Cressen asked him. “I’d thought the only thing you want to know about them is where their holes are.”

“Trust me, I know exactly where their holes are—it’s my favorite part about them.” At this moment, Stannis was talking to his steward. He gestured around the room, giving instructions like he was actually the lord of Storm’s End. “I imagine it’ll become my favorite part of Stannis during his heat." 

Maester Cressen turned to Robert, furious.

Robert feigned innocence as he stared straight ahead. “Apologies, I misspoke. I meant to say Stannis’ husband, or maybe my wife. I can’t remember.” He lifted his half-full wine glass. “It’s the wine. It truly loosens the tongue.”

“In the future, I advised you against such vices.”

“Well, when I am lord, I will heed your advice.” He finished up his cup. “Or not.” Robert finally looked at his much shorter maester. He loomed over him, with the eyes of a proud giant. “Forgive me, maester Cressen—it’s been so long. I haven’t noticed how old you’ve gotten.” He raised his hand to call a serving boy over. “I hope you’ll be around to teach my children. I’d hate to replace you so soon.”

The suggestion struck a nerve. Maesters stayed with whatever holdfast they were assigned. Maester Cressen would spend the last of his days would be serving Robert and his children, even if it was Stannis he loved. Believing his word-final, Robert excused himself. “My brother looks like he wants to retire, and I’d like to pay him a visit before bed.”

Robert walked forward. Suddenly, a loud cough was heard behin himd.

“Maester Cressen?” Stannis called out. The flash of blue passed by Robert like he was nothing—a gazelle running through the wind without a care to the hunters. Robert turned around to follow his brother's form, only to see the maester on his knees. He was coughing up a storm. Stannis demanded water from a serving girl and helped him drink it.

“I’m alright,” the maester huffed. “I just need some rest. I’m afraid I am not as young as I used to be.”

“No, you’re not,” Stannis agreed—his bluntness in this time was sometimes astounding. “I will help you to your chambers.”

Robert said nothing as Stannis helped the man up. He had no power to intervene, as the crone monopolized his brother’s attention. Once they were gone and his wits returned, the anger did as well. Robert marched out of the ballroom, grabbing another glass of wine before he left. He drank it all in half a stride as he searched the halls for someone to warm his now aching cock.

*** 

Robert Baratheon was greedy.

He had been since birth. His blessings challenged those of any alpha on earth—he had the looks to pull any maiden into bed, the strength to knock over a hundred horses, and a family name worth thirty thousand men. He had charisma and the loyalty of a good man.

Robert had so much, and still, he wanted more.

When Robert was finished with the cunt he found, he left the room. The lady he took was not a virgin, but she wasn’t as experienced as some of the women Robert had been with. She took his thrusts wailing, clawing at his back as she begged him to be gentle. After he planted his seed deep into her womb, she passed out. There was nothing to cover her, so like a gentleman, he took off his shirt and tossed it on top of her naked body. She was a good fuck and deserved some dignity when she was found.

Robert’s decision not to take her to his chambers was met with a boon from the Gods. When he opened the door, Stannis was sitting on his bed like a present.

“Stannis.”

“Robert.” Stannis stood up straighter. “Pardon my presence; I wanted to speak to you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” Robert assured. He looked around the room, in case some busy bodied servant was standing about. “I thought you were with maester Cressen.”

“I was,” Stannis said. “He’s in bed now. The excitement from the ceremony must have been too much for his health. He should recover by morning.”

“I am glad,” Robert lied. He sat on the bed beside Stannis. He reached forward to grab Stannis’ chin and made him face him. Stannis did not fight the action, and soon their blue eyes were facing each other. He leaned in closer. “I wanted to see you again.”

Stannis stared at him and raised an eyebrow. “You smell like perfume.”

Robert almost cursed. “If I had known you were coming, I would have washed.”

“But still not refused them?”

“Of course, I would have refused. When you left to care for maester Cressen, I was without company.” He touched his brother’s cheek, not paying any mind to the grimace that accompanied the gesture. “You know an alpha can’t be expected to control themselves when there’s a willing body in their presence. It’s not natural.”

“If ‘natural’ is the criteria in which we judge ourselves, then we are no better than beasts.” 

Robert chuckled. “Has your judgment of me lowered greatly?”

“My judgment has to buried beneath the ground to be lower than it is." Stannis moved to get up from the bed. “We can talk tomorrow morning. You’re still drunk.”

Robert pulled him back as soon as his ass left the sheets. He pushed Stannis onto his back and crept in between his thighs. When Stannis tried to close his legs, Robert positioned himself between them so that they were spread apart.

Stannis groaned. “Stop.”

Robert ignored him. “What did you want to speak about?” His hands slipped underneath Stannis’ ruined top and lifted it until he could see the bottom of Stannis' brown areoles. Before his nipples could be revealed, Stannis’ hands flew to capture Robert’s own.

“Let’s talk.”

“Good,” Robert agreed as he tried to move fabric higher. Stannis struggled to push him back. 

“Robert, I agreed to speak!”

“We can speak without our clothes on.” Knowing Stannis wouldn’t let down his walls without an act of good faith, Robert let go of his brother’s shirt to take off his own. He heard the omega’s breath hitch. He knew as much as Stannis denied it, his brother liked his body.

“We really can’t,” Stannis breathed out. He tried to push his brother off, but his actions had the opposite effect. A thrill ran down Stannis’ spine when his palms pressed against his brother’s muscles. He made the mistake of looking at his brother and saw the man smirking down at him. His brother leaned down to kiss him, and the ecstatic familiarity of his brother’s taste made him part his mouth at once. His arms became weightless as they lifted for his brother to remove his shirt. Once it was gone and they were left to their flimsy, filthy pants, Stannis knew the truth. His brother was an alpha amongst alphas, and if he didn’t leave, he would become a whore in his sheets.

“Robert, listen to me.” Stannis moaned as Robert kissed his neck, right above his mating gland. Coward, Stannis thought as he arched his hips, desperate for the friction that would be awarded when his cunt pressed against his brother’s cock. He hated how his body pulsed beneath his brother’s touch. “Robert.”

Stannis grabbed his brother’s face. He was so handsome, Stannis thought as his body burned with the want to kiss him again. The want felt like a need, and his mind became consumed with lust and anger. Gods, Stannis thought with shame. He needed to kiss his brother. He needed to kiss his brother so much it felt like he was dying.

“Kiss me,” Robert commanded.

Stannis couldn’t refuse. He wrapped his arms around Robert’s neck and pressed their lips together. Stannis had never known pleasure before, but now he knew his elders had done omegas a service by forbidding it. Such addictions could only destroy his kind. “I shouldn’t do this," he whispered.

“You shouldn’t learn how to please your alpha?” Robert mused. He loosened the ties on Stannis’ pants and pressed his fingers against his brother’s clothed cunt. “This is exactly what your kind is meant for.”

Stannis closed his eyes. “It shouldn’t be _you_ who teaches me.”

It was the wrong thing to say, and Robert made his opinion clear. Stannis’ plans of escape left as soon as Robert pushed his hips up and spread his thighs so far apart, they were almost split on top of the bed. His flexibility was a result of his active training, and he hated it now because it only made it easier for Robert to play with him like a toy. 

“I’m your brother,” Robert growled out. “I should be the only alpha you trust.”

Stannis didn’t bother to refute his logic. His older brother shoved his legs onto the bed, keeping them opened for whatever his brother had in mind. To his shame, Stannis couldn’t will them closed. He was soaking up his brother’s sheets like an unpaid harlot, and the honey slicking up his cunt would have them spread with ease.

Robert took out his massive erection from his pants. Stannis’ eyes widened. He had never seen any manhood but his own, but he bet Robert had the biggest cock in the kingdom. His balls were large and heavy, and they swelled with rich, potent seed. Stannis’ pussy drooled; Stannis hated how his body reacted to the sight. He wasn’t even fertile, and yet his body wanted nothing more than to be filled. 

“Swear you won’t tell anyone.”

“I swear,” Robert agreed easily. Though the bragging rights that came with having his brother as a fucktoy was tempting, the risk was too great. House Baratheon might actually find a new heir. It was fine to dirty up his brother in secret. The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to Robert. He couldn’t deny the allure of under the table touches at their family gatherings or the lewdness of taking his brother in his wedding bed. 

“Swear,” Stannis breathed out again. “Swear you won’t take me against my will.”

Robert grinned; his teeth bared as he drew closer. “If I take you, it won’t be against your will.”

Stannis winced at the truth. “Then swear…” He swallowed. “Swear you will leave my maidenhead.”

A flash of rage passed through Robert’s eyes.

In addition to fear, Stannis felt more arousal. He tried to explain before his brother refused. “If you split me open, my husband will know. I won’t recover from your girth. Robert, you’re too big.” Stannis tried not to look at the engorged head drawing close to his hole. If it was half as large as he remembered, Stannis might bite his words.

Robert dropped his cock. The weight slapped against his thigh, and the sound made his brother shiver with pleasure. “I swear,” Robert growled. He grabbed Stannis’ pants and tore them open to reveal his ruined undergarments. Robert’s cock wanted to sink into that heat, but he controlled himself. Stannis was his brother, and he was special. He would save that cunt for the right occasion.

Instead, Robert pushed his finger deep into his brother’s cunt. Stannis almost screamed; he turned his head so that he could shove his head into a pillow. He’d never had anything inside him before, and even something as simple as his brother’s finger was enough to make him full. 

Robert pressed his lips against his brother’s ear. A second finger traced his folds. Stannis bit down into the stuffed goose feathers to hold back his moans. “Even if you scream, no one will care. You won’t be the first omega who lost their voice in my chambers.”

Stannis glared at him. Suddenly, he pulled his brother's face down for another kiss. He kept kissing Robert and kissing him until his lips were swollen and bruised. Before they parted, Stannis’ teeth bit into his lower lips. The taste of iron filled his mouth. 

“If you’re as good as you claim," Stannis challenged. "You’d make me regret your oaths." Stannis' chest heaved as he made the declaration. 

Robert stared at the virgin temptress beneath him. The flavor of Stannis’ saliva was mixed in the blood, and Robert thought about the many ways he could return the favor. He didn’t know where to start. Stannis was painted like a whore, red dusted his cheeks and spread throughout his tanned skin. Robert ran his tongue against his new wound. 

When the wait became too long, Stannis got frustrated and made the bold move to push out his hips. His inner thighs were smooth and untouched, and the red would look prettiest so close to his cunt. With his decision made, Robert moved his mouth towards that immaculate flesh.

Regardless of how Stannis felt about his commentary, he no longer held back his screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) One of the reasons this chapter took so long is because my friend reminded me that Steffon Baratheon and Aerys Targaryen were good friends and cousins. Meaning that if Stannis was an omega, Aerys would have definitely tried to marry him to Rhaegar. This ruined everything (in the most amazing way) because I was so intrigued by this premise, I had to redo my entire plan for this story. This meant scrapping all of the outlines I already did. 
> 
> With that being said...
> 
> 2) It is likely I will be splitting this AU into two parts. I can never half-ass anything. I want to make this series about young Robert/Stannis and the next one will be in their adulthood. I don't know how I'm going to do the sequel, but I really want to make a sequel to this. I'm too invested now. 
> 
> 3) Here are the fancasts for [Robert and Stannis](https://twitter.com/sometimesimeow/status/1189077752235708416/)  



	3. Chapter 3

Any doubts Robert had about Stannis being his brother left in the bedroom. Stannis loved sex. He took to cock the way Robert took to his first cunt. He knew how to bend his back at the right degree for Robert to taste his chest and where to lick his brother’s sweat when Robert’s blood was boiling. Almost every night, Stannis welcomed Robert in his sheets, and in the day, they would meet after lessons, only for Stannis’ books to fall on the ground as he was kissed against the bookshelf or stripped on top of the desk. Robert’s fingers always found Stannis’ cunt, and Stannis’ legs liked to wrap themselves around Robert’s waist. Robert understood what his parents meant when they referred to Stannis’ ‘appeal.’ He wasn’t whorish, or shy. The younger Baratheon was tauntingly dignified, and the temptation to ruin him was greater than any thirst or hunger Robert had ever experienced. Robert would be able to have his fill—if Stannis would stop saying no.

Robert learned soon into their affair that Stannis was as charming in bed as he was in person. He let Robert have his way with him for a time, before taking an oath of celibacy at the most inopportune moment. They could be in the bath with his cock grinding against Stannis’ ass when Stannis would suddenly stand up and tell him they’ve gone too far. Sometimes they were walking in the hall together, and Robert would reach out to grab his ass, only to be backhanded into another kingdom.

On one particular day, Robert and Stannis had gone on a hunt with their father and his party. There were several people there, from his father’s squires and foster sons to other lords who’d been staying in the area and decided to join them. While Robert and Stannis had been in the stables, the second son had refused Robert’s advances a second time. Robert had placed his hands inside Stannis’ trousers, hoping to brush his finger against a fold when Stannis had kneed him in the chest. Before Robert could retaliate, Stannis had called out their father’s name. Robert had no choice but to follow the two into the fields and then the deeper regions of the forest with a bulging cock, and a frustrated expression. Once there, the party managed considerable success, with their running rabbits that unfortunately crossed paths, a small deer that had wandered off from his mother, and Robert, in his frustration, managed to spear a rather large boar that had captured the admiration of the entire group. They were all celebrating when Stannis, the only omega of the group, had offered to clean the creature for consumption. He stepped out to the preparation area, which most had forgotten was still in earshot of the camp.

Soon, the rest of the group delved into their routine, testosterone-filled conversation. One of Lord Baratheon's guards were discussing his newest lay—a young maid who’d taken his word that it was impossible for him to seed him outside his heat.

“He was eager after that!” The alpha announced gleefully. “I don’t know what these omegas are drinking lately, but I hope the cow never dies! My dick hasn’t been dry in weeks!”

All the alphas began to laugh. Robert turned to Stannis to see his opinion, but his younger brother was concerned with how deep his flaying knife dug into the hind regions of the boar.

“Which maid is this?” His father asked, curious. “My wife will throw a fit if she loses another one due to indiscretion.” 

“Ours or yours?” Another man suggested with a grin.

Robert watched his father laugh merrily. His mother used to say he got all his charm from his father. She was right. It wasn’t just Steffon’s looks—looks that Robert fortunately inherited—but the Lord of Storm’s End could make anyone feel good about themselves. He used to brag about making Tywin Lannister crack a smile when they were boys. His personality drew his allies in without a finger of maneuvering, and that charm accompanied a genuineness that made his allies trust him.

Everyone knew Robert was Steffon’s son, and like his son, Steffon had a hefty appetite for food, drink, and of course, omegas.

“I haven’t the time,” Steffon admitted. He patted Robert on the shoulder. “Honest. I'm too busy making sure this one won’t burn my kingdom to the ground when I’m gone.”

More men laughed, and Robert cracked a smile at his inevitable title. It was comforting to see that despite his age, his father’s men seem to support his inheritance.

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time given Stannis’ growth,” One young lordling, younger than the others, maybe even Robert’s age with a foot that couldn’t fully stuff his mouth. Robert wondered how much he had to drink—certainly not more than any of them, but he seemed like a lightweight. They looked at each other with uncomfortable stares, with Steffon glancing at his son to make sure he was not listening. Stannis continued cutting, and Steffon returned his gaze to the lord. He must have realized his folly because Robert could smell the fear dripping from his sweat.

Then, Steffon grinned. “Ambitious, aren’t you?” The man swallowed. “Eying the eldest omega of a lord who has not even bloomed. I guess I should expect a letter in the future!” The Lord suggested with a hearty laugh.

“No, I meant—”

“What?” Steffon’s smile dropped to a fierce glare. “Are you telling me my son isn’t good enough for a proposal? From you?” Robert and his father’s friends and guards could tell it was without heat, but the boy was shaking and pale.

“Of course not! It’d be an honor!”

“An honor? To deflower my son?”

The young man’s fear turned into embarrassment as he hastily claimed no ill will. Robert watched his father, impressed. Lords were executed for less—certainly, the king had such habits. Instead, Steffon broke out into another laugh, and everyone followed, some more forced than the others. Robert watched them all as he drank the last of his flask. He was getting up to grab the one next to Stannis when one of the men asked Robert about his silence.

“You’d always have a story to share! Have you gone through all the whores already?”

The suggestion made some of them laugh, including his father, who, stared at his son with curiosity.

“He’s right, son,” Steffon noted. “It’s not like you to keep secrets, especially when it is keeping your spoils from your fellow lord.” He gestured to Storm End’s men, who took great pleasure in learning about the more open members of the fairer sex. He smirked. “Or have you finally met a dam you couldn’t catch?”

For the first time, Stannis reacted. Robert saw Stannis stab an artery, causing the blood to spurt out over the table. He swore and looked up to meet Robert’s eyes. They were most beautiful at night because when they darkened, it reminded him of his bed. Now, they were storming for an entirely different reason.

Robert couldn’t resist. “My newest one has been a bigger challenge than I expected.” Robert licked his lips as Stannis paused again. “He comes to me in his formal wears, looking like he wants to tutor me in history before he hugs my fingers with his cunt.”

“A noble?” One asked, both intrigued and worried. Robert recognized him as a lesser lord with a daughter he may or may not have fondled in his lonelier days. 

“Proper as they come.”

“Can’t be too proper if they’re letting you near them.” One man cackled.

“Maybe he’s ashamed.” his father suggested. “Males are notoriously proud, as much as an alpha can be, sometimes.” Steffon laughed again. “I’ve got a fondness for the inexperienced ones. You can teach them more than a brothel keeper, and it sticks with them for life. A good lesson can teach an omega how to make someone fall in love with his mouth.”

Stannis was working more quickly now. Robert licked his lips at his displeasure. He spoke louder this time. “He’s a cocktease is what he is. He knows it drives me up the fucking wall whenever he says no, and lately, he doesn’t even kiss my dick goodbye.”

“You let him do that?” A lord sneered. “My omega wouldn’t be able to sit down if he behaved like that in my home.”

Robert shrugged off his bristle. “Not my omega,” he admitted, though the words felt dirty on his tongue. “Sometimes, I think he wants me to get angry.” Robert thought about the near bouts they’ve gotten into in the bedroom. Many occurring because Robert had gotten too rough or greedy with his touches. “Hold him down and fuck him until he cries. It explains why he’s been more of a cunt than usual—just trying to get a reaction from the fat cock that he likes so much.” Robert took a swig. “These days, I think he keeps going, I might do it. Just take him while his back is turned and fuck his ass until the next kingdom.”

“I know the type,” His father hummed wistfully. “God, they’re the best. You can fuck all the virgins in Westeros, but none as tight as a proper nobleman’s ass.” He patted his son on the back. “Here’s some advice—don’t just use force with them. Those types love it rough, but they need to be broken down first. You’d be amazed at what holes your cock can find its way in once that pride cracks.” 

From behind, a crack could be heard. They all turn to him. Stannis had broken off the task of the boar with his hands. He finished off the other one with another loud, attention-grabbing snap and placed them next to the bones for further use. The boar was done.

“I’m washing up,” Stannis announced as he stormed. Before Steffon could call for a guard to watch over him, Stannis grabbed a sword. Robert followed and told his father with a sheepish grin that he guessed they should have been more careful.

“He’s a bit sensitive towards that talk, isn’t he?” Robert joked, before running after his younger brother. Steffon watched both his sons run out of sight and thought nothing of it except for an odd feeling in his stomach. When he looked down, he noticed their footprints sunk deep enough to the ground that it looked like they were touching hell.

***

Robert tried not to make a sound when he snuck up behind Stannis. His younger brother was washing his hands in a stream, his jerkin was sitting in a nearby wash to cleaned next, and he seemed none the wiser to his additional presence. That was wishful thinking on his part, for when he got up close to lay his hands-on Stannis’ chest, the boy immediately shrugged him off.

“Not now, Robert.”

Robert sighed. “This is getting old, Stannis.”

“So are we,” Stannis replied. “You are not a child, Robert. There must come a time when aggravating me won’t bring you amusement.” 

“Yes, but one of us will be in the grave long before then.”

“Well,” Stannis started, frustrated by the response. “I hope your fun was worth it. Because you’re a bigger fool than I thought you were if you think I am going to let you touch me again today.”

Robert scoffed. “There’s no threat in a sentence already passed. Besides, I don’t see what I did to offend you.”

Stannis glared at him. “You don’t see? Tell me, if I split your head with a sword, will nothing but air come out?” He groaned in frustration as he took off his shirt to remove any signs of animal vestige. Robert licked his lips and admired the sight of his bare chest. “You shouldn’t have spoken about me like that. Especially in front of father. It was shameful. For both of us.”

Ah, that was what was causing this ruckus. “Father did not suspect it was you. And it would have been suspicious if I remained silent,” Robert pointed out. “I’m not exactly a figure of celibacy.”

“Nor tact, as it seems.” Stannis dipped his shirt in the water, where the stains were most prevalent. “You didn’t have to reveal it was a noble you’ve been lusting after. Or a male. There are so few of us in Storm’s End, and some of those men in father’s party may suspect their children. You put their honor at risk as well.”

“Trust my words when I say most of their honor has long been threatened.” Stannis gave him a look of displeasure. Robert did not falter. “This is what alphas do. We bond over our exploits and then chase some more based on those stories. I had every right to talk about you, and you should feel honored.”

“I should feel honored?” Stannis asked, partly amused by the suggestion, but mostly skeptical.

“Yes,” Robert agreed, as he tried to hold Stannis in his grasp. “That was the highest praise I’ve given any omega. Praise was given because when I had finally have you, I know you’d make my greatest victory yet.”

Stannis did hit him this time.

Robert rubbed his cheek. “Most omegas would be charmed by that,” he all but whined.

“Considering you’re the sort of fool who’d go to war over quim, you can imagine why I’m not falling to my knees.” Stannis pushed him away. He found some residue on his skin and washed with his cloth. “I’m not a fool, I know alphas talk,” Stannis told him. “I expected this of you. You’re one of those alphas that are always talking. You and the rest of them never shut up.”

“Then why are you angry?” Robert asked. He might as well asked, 'Why blame a fish for swimming?'

“Because you _knew_ I could hear you.” Stannis glared. “You made a fool of me to my face. How do you expect me to forgive that insult?”

A flare of indignation rose in Robert’s chest. He stepped forward, and the delight of watching Stannis step back put out the fire in his chest. “If you didn't want to be ignored, then you should have accepted my attention when offered.” Robert grabbed his brother’s hips. Stannis tried to get away, but his struggles proved fruitless.

“Let go of me.”

“Or what? You’ll kick me in the balls and cry to father? Trust me; you’ve already turned them blue.”

“I’m sure you’ve found someone to lick off the paint.”

“I rather you do the licking.”

Stannis flushed but held his ground. At this rate, they could be trading insults all night. “You won’t get your way baiting me, Robert.”

“Well, what am I getting now? A handjob in the stable and balls so cold, I have frostbite.”

“You get far more than what I should give.”

“Aye, and you get your fill as well,” Robert reminded him. “I’m not the only one shaking and moaning while my brother pumps his load on my chest.”

Stannis hissed out his disgust. “If you’re not satisfied, you can stop this.”

“I’m not satisfied with is the bargain, but I want the goods,” Robert corrected. “I deserve more.” 

“After today?” Stannis snapped. You’d be lucky if I offered mercy.”

Robert snorted. “You should be grateful for my offense.”

“Oh?” Stannis scoffed. “How is that?”

“Because the more they talk, the easier it’ll be to keep an ear out for those who come too close to the truth. Or do you want the maids gossiping at your wedding, planting lies into your husband’s head while they carry to his chambers?” 

Stannis opened his mouth to speak, and then his mouth closed, caging the insult that was sure to come. He seemed genuinely surprised by the ingenuity. For the first time, Robert wondered if Stannis finally recognized he had a point. His face broke out to a grin. “You hadn’t thought about that, had you?”

Stannis scowled. Frankly, Robert loved the expression. His little brother never looked sexier than when he was riled up. He was especially feisty when Robert was right.

“You’ve always wanted me to use my head; now, I’m using it.”

Stannis narrowed his eyes. For a moment, Robert did believe his balls were at risk. Stannis always looked ready to kill whenever Robert’s arrogance got ahold of his tongue. His hand rose, and it could either mean a stroke or a slap. Robert prepped himself for the latter and was pleasantly surprised to feel his head pulled down for a kiss.

Much better than a slap, Robert thought as he pushed Stannis on the closest surface he could find. The rock behind his brother was not particularly big, so he had to arch his back to meet Robert’s mouth. Fortunately, Stannis was blessedly tall. In the middle of the kiss, Robert startled when he felt a hand on his trousers.

That was unexpected, to say the least. The drought of blood must have left Robert's head barren, for instead of enjoying the moment, he pulled away and asked, “What are you doing?” Robert immediately regretted it. He was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but the shock had taken over his senses.

Stannis raised an eyebrow. “You wanted a reward, so I’ll give you one.” There was something almost…_vengeful_ in his tone. “Let’s see if this omega can make an alpha fall in love with his mouth.”

Stannis pulled out Robert’s erection; the cock was bouncing out of his confines as soon as it was released. The tip slapped the surface of Stannis’ lips, with droplets pre-cum splattering onto his face. It was fucking gorgeous, and Robert’s full erection was now pulsing in excitement.

Stannis wrapped his lips around the head and began to suck. Stannis lips were thin, so despite the considerable—but not painful—suction he was performing, it felt almost like a kiss on his cock. He did this until his mouth was full of precum, and he was at risk of coming for real. Then, he pushed the cock further in his mouth.

Robert moaned as Stannis used his hand to wrap the base of his cock, where his throat struggled to accommodate. Stannis has blown him before, but he almost stopped when the head reached the back of his throat. Robert was about to wonder how far Stannis would go when his hand slid up and down his length. Stannis’ saliva proved to be valuable lubrication, and its slickened Stannis’ side so that the grip around his cock was wet and tight. It wasn’t long before Robert was bucking his hips against Stannis’ face.

The abrupt movements alarmed Stannis, and he found himself at risk of choking on the erection in his mouth. He squeezed his left hand hard to fend off his reflex, but couldn’t stop the squeeze his throat made around Robert’s cock.

“Fuck!” Robert swore. “Fuck, Stannis, you feel good.” His movements weren’t slowing down at all at the action. If anything, he was rougher. He grabbed Stannis' hair and started to thrust inside, pushing past the protections of his throat.

Stannis tried not to gag when the messy pubes of Robert’s crotch pressed his face. Robert rubbed against Stannis’ tongue as he thrust in and out of Robert’s face. Stannis wanted nothing more to back off, but he set forth this challenge, and he intended to win it. Robert’s eyes closed as Stannis uncontrollable whimpers and grunts escaped his throat. The sound was a bard’s masterpiece. When he opened his eyes to look down at his brother, he was too distracted by the visible outline of his cock inside Stannis’ throat to notice the inevitable glare that welcomed him. 

Stannis couldn’t handle more than the thrusts he was given. Again, he was a novice, and as much as Robert wanted to fuck his throat raw, the best he could do was the deep, hard thrust down that insufferable throat and the incredible slick of Stannis’ hand on his base. His brother never laid back and took anything, and he met Robert’s thrusts with a few bobs of his own, and an overwhelming suction he’d found again once familiar with the momentum.

Again, Robert could not deny that while Stannis was impossible to deal with it, credit needed to be given to him when it came to his studies. Stannis always gave it his all, no matter how big or small the reward. In this case, his reward would be a sweet, cream-colored glow.

The image sent a heavenly jolt to his erection, and his cock twitched and spluttered into Stannis’ mouth. Stannis recognized the sensation, and he swallowed the cock down as it thrust and sucked on the length harder when it pulled out and reached his lips. Robert’s belly stirred in response, his body shook, his balls tightened, and soon the waves of pleasure rushed down cock and came all over Stannis’ face.

Robert never felt bad about denying Stannis a warning, rationalizing that a facial should be expected when faced with a warm mouth. Instead, Robert let the aftershock of his release wash over him as the last of the cum drip out his cock and down Stannis’ face. Robert was breathing like a dying man when Stannis got up.

“White’s a good color on you,” Robert praised as he watched Stannis wiped the remnants off his face—moments after he caught his younger brother licking his lips of the semen that had gotten into his mouth. He wanted to laugh. He bet his brother thought he could get away with that image.

Stannis rolled his eyes at him. He dipped the washcloth in the stream, the same one that he’d been using to clean himself of animal fluids, was used to wipe off his face. Stannis’ lips looked a bit red and swollen, but it wasn’t noticeable without someone trying to find it. There were no other marks, and with a single stroke, all evidence of their actions erased.

Robert admitted he was surprised. 

“Omegas are dangerous,” Robert declared. He was a little breathless.

“What?”

The heir shook his head. “You're all are able to look so innocent after letting a man use your mouth. It’s disconcerting.”

Stannis raised an eyebrow. Then, he shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I haven’t bloomed yet,” he suggested. He was always more comfortable talking about his heat, or lack thereof, whenever they’d have one of their sessions. “Or that you haven’t knotted me.”

Yet, Robert wanted to add. He held his tongue. “Do you think you’ll change after you’ve blossomed? Or stay the same as you are?” Plain. Boring. Unexcitable to the knotted flesh.

Stannis didn’t face him as he finished flattening out his wears. “Decide for yourself. I’m already changing.”

Robert became silent. He was about to respond, any response that would aggravate Stannis enough that Robert’s easy mouth and rough hands could find an opening to lay on Stannis. Instead, his mind was stripped of ailments, and what was left was clarity. For the first time since they began their affair, he was finally looking at Stannis.

Stannis was blossoming.

There were stretch marks on his skin. Stannis’ toned body made them hard to see, but they were evident now. The hips that were once so thin and narrow were now stretching apart for a future child, a wider field for the sowing. His chest wasn’t swelling, but his nipples were decidedly more prominent if he were to look.

And Robert was looking.

Without warning, Robert pulled him close. His mouth leaned in.

“Robert, I’ve had you in my mouth—”

Robert ignored his younger brother and kissed him, regardless. Their kisses after these acts were always raw, violent, and passionate. They got Stannis breathless, and Robert loved it for all his intelligence and sense, Stannis couldn’t think after a kiss. This time, however, Stannis kissed back instead of taking it. He used his tongue and moaned just enough so that there was a movement in his throat that could be felt in Robert’s mouth. He loved it. He loved how Stannis kissed precisely how he liked. 

“You’re less shy now,” Robert said, moments after they parted. He didn’t know he could sound so breathless.

Stannis frowned. “I was never shy. I was unskilled.”  
Robert chuckled. He kissed the side of Stannis’ neck. Stannis didn’t turn him away. “Now, you’re an expert?” he asked. Then, he took a step back, taking a seat on a nearby stump. “Enough to please a prince?”

Stannis shook his head. “You’re obsessed with that possibility.” Instead of lingering on the conversation, he got up to leave. Robert followed him back to the camp. Unable to let the matter go, Robert continued to push.

“Everyone is waiting for you to blossom.” Conspiring, Robert thought. “What would you do if you were queen?”

“Bear the next king.”

Robert rushed until he was in front of his brother. Perhaps it was a result of their earlier session or the conversation, but Stannis looked tired. “I am serious.”

“So am I.” Stannis walked around him.

“You could have all of Westeros bowing at your feet. Including me,” Robert reminded him.

“There is nothing stopping you from doing so now.”

Robert smirked. “So, you’d admit you want me to worship you on my knees?”

“I’d like you to shut up.” 

“I could do both.”

Stannis turned red at the implication. Then, he composed himself and walked with a jolt in his steps.

“You’re not one to surrender,” Robert declared. “Perhaps you know I’m right, and that your betrothal is on the tips of everyone’s tongues.” He walked behind his brother and wrapped his hand around Stannis’ hips.

His younger brother sighed and turned to him. “I think I figured out your fascination with me marrying the prince.

Robert raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You could fuck any omega in the seven kingdoms," Stannis pointed out, "But you could never fuck the queen.” 

And there it was—the barest hint of a smile that made Robert go crazy.

***

Almost three months past and the waters of Storm’s End became as restless as the skies as they entered their most tempestuous months. The inhabitants soon followed. Stannis had not had his heat yet, and now everyone was on edge as the maester Cressen’s predictions were now a year overdue. More ravens have been coming from the capital than ever; all their letters adorned with a royal seal. The king was angry, and his volatile rage would soon turn cruel. When everyone left the ravens’ room, Robert had been bold enough to sift through the letters for information. The king wanted Lord Baratheon back in King’s Landing. He wanted to meet Stannis. He didn’t mention Robert or Renly, but he was desperate to hear about the second son.

Robert knew it wouldn’t be long before he accused their Steffon of lying to him about Stannis’ blossoming, and with every letter, the maester worried the red of the sigil might end up bleeding into its words.

Stannis suffered the brunt of his body’s failure. He gorged himself with herbs and teas and ignored the maids when they checked his sheets and undergarments for staining. He visited the maester almost every hour of every day to check on his temperature, and even the slightest decrease was met with disapproval. Earlier in the year, Stannis could have found release in the seas, but the oceans were too vicious to consider swimming in, and all the spars were kept indoors because of the storming. As a result, Stannis was not allowed to join the alphas in training; in fear they may barricade the doors and have their way with him. Stannis had no outlet or escape. It made him angry and bitter and miserly. He denied any visitors because he knew their presence would enter without his consent.

The circumstance contributed to Robert’s frustrations. With Stannis under watch, he’d lost his primary bedpartner for the year. The last few weeks felt like there weren’t enough omegas in the castle for Robert to fuck. None of them had Stannis’ refinement or his fight. Robert was insatiable as he used up every cunt that cleaned his rooms, Stannis’ rooms, and even his parents’ favorites were guests of his bed. When Robert was finished with them, he ordered a dozen more from the brothels surrounding their keep.

It was unsatisfying but would suffice until this dreaded heat came. Robert’s behavior soon caught his brother’s attention. The younger boy came storming into the dining room one afternoon, asking for a word with their father and brother. Once they had their privacy, Stannis went on a tangent about how one of his chambermaids was on bedrest after throwing up on the hallway’s floor. When they were about to ask how it affected them, Stannis hissed out,

“She’s _pregnant.” _

Robert stared. Honestly, the heir was more taken back by Stannis’ behavior than the actual news. He stood in silence as Stannis complained to their father about Robert’s transgressions. “I understand the whoremonger has the resistance of loose straw, but the least he could do is keep his cock in his bed, and out of mine!”

Robert bit his tongue. He wondered if Stannis chose the words on purpose.

The two of them—his father and brother—spoke for hours on length on the topic of Robert’s spawn. He listened as his father promised Stannis another maid—an elderly one this time, which resulted in more indignation as Stannis complained why he had to suffer when it was Robert’s fault. The whine reminded Robert of their childhood fights. Eventually, Stannis stormed off to his bedroom. Robert was left alone with their father. Lord Steffon turned to his eldest son with a sigh.

“What happens now?” Robert asked.

Steffon shrugged as he grabbed a flask. He smelled the contents and took a swig. Then, he grimaced. “We’ll find her a new house,” he said. “Give her an allowance until the child comes of age, maybe a trade for the future.” He said it all so matter of fact as if this has been done many, many times before. 

“I meant Stannis.” 

Steffon seemed surprised. “Oh, he expected this as much.” Steffon chuckled. “I’m lucky he isn’t a gambling man, or I’d lost my fortune when he’d first complained.” Then, he pointed his container at Robert. “Go to his room and apologize. It’s his maid you defiled.”

Robert froze. Stannis’ room? “Alone?”

Steffon let out a loud gaff. “He’s not a dragon. You can offer an apology, no matter how insincere. Put the matter to rest before it gets out of hand.” His eyes grew dark. “We cannot afford the stress.”

Robert complied, almost gleefully. Stannis rested at his desk, writing his notes with a furious tremor in his hand. A cup of lukewarm tea was sitting in the corner, shaking as Stannis cursed Robert’s perversions under his breath. 

“Are yo trulyu angry?” Robert asked. “You seemed to enjoy my last tale.”

Stannis threw his quill onto his desk and turned around. Before he could get a word in, Robert shoved him against the counter. It reminded him of old times, before the storm months, before the royal letters, before, when he could have drunk his fill of Stannis’s body. Robert shoved his hand inside Stannis’ trousers, and his fingers quickly found the opening to Stannis’ womb. Stannis moaned; one hand had a grip on the desk for balance while the other wrapped around Robert’s neck. He pressed his head onto Robert’s shoulder as his older brother stuck his fingers deep inside. Stannis wasn’t dripping, but he was getting wetter by the second. Robert didn’t mind. He liked this too, feeling every stage of Stannis’ arousal before he gave in to Robert’s advances—.

“Rougher,” Stannis grunted out. He wasn’t fighting this time, and Robert knew why. He _needed_ this release. Robert slammed his fingers in and out, fucking his brother’s cunt with every bit of his strength. When Stannis came, Robert’s fingers were trapped snugly inside that cunt and wouldn’t let go until every and ripple and tremble released from his body. His body was loose; he draped over Robert like a cloak. In Robert’s ear, Stannis offered these maddening, gaspy breaths.

Finally, after Stannis’ breath settled, Robert only realized he’d been holding his breath. The heir patted down the back of Stannis’ head. The gesture was soft and sentimental.

“We should fuck already.”

Stannis made a noise that could have been mistaken for a laugh. Robert knew it wasn’t. “No.” He sounded tired, and maybe a bit amused. Relief did wonders to his temperament.

“You want it, and I know you like my cock.”

“You’re crude as always,” Stannis noted. He raised his head so that he was looking into Robert’s face. There was a glow on his cheeks, and his blue eyes were more critical up close. “I enjoy your body, Robert. And for some reason, you enjoy mine’s.” Stannis released his hold on Robert and leaned back on his desk. “You don’t desire children—in any form, and yet you desire me. That makes me feel good. Grown.”

“I can make you feel more than that,” Robert promised. He loved the shiver that ran down his brother’s spine. “If you truly intend to end this when your heat comes, I deserve more than your mouth.”

“We deserve nothing but lashes,” Stannis announced in frustration. The bliss wearing off as Robert continued to grate his nerves. “We cannot cross that line. Robert. Ever.” Stannis’ eyes narrowed.

“Why not? Why deny me this pleasure that you yourself seek? We may not be kings or queens, but we are humans. We eat. We fight. We fuck. That is what being alive means.”

“So do animals,” Stannis snapped. “I like to think even you are better than a common dog.”  
“Do you?” Robert mocked. “With how you leash me with your robes every night and beat me with a stick when I do wrong, I’d thought otherwise.” Robert leaned in. “Let this be a lesson from your older brother: we are no better than beasts. Once I have you panting like a bitch, you’ll thank me for the council,” Robert growled. “Let me fuck you.”

Stannis stared at his brother. For a second, they were so close; he might have wondered if Robert was going to go further than allowed. Instead, he closed his eyes.

“Ask me again.” 

“Let me—"

“Ask me again.” Stannis eyes snap open. “Ask me again, and I’ll tell father everything.”

Robert’s fists balled up. “So, we’re down to empty threats?”

“They’re not empty.”

“You would disgrace yourself?” Robert scoffed. “Or what, lie, and say I forced you?”

“No,” Stannis confessed. “I’d tell him the truth. I’d tell him I came to your bedroom the first night, and that I feared I would let you take what was not yours. My dignity will suffer for it, but at least my honor will survive.” Stannis stood up to face Robert. “Whatever punishment awaits me; I know one thing.” Stannis stepped forward and spoke lowly, “I will never see you again .”

***

Robert did not stop visiting Stannis after the incident, and he didn’t ask again either. The alpha wished he could resist his brother’s scent, but as soon as his brother’s breath touched his skin, he was running after him like a dog. The frequency of their trysts reverted to their pre-storm season, but the tension had evolved to unwarranted aggression that neither of them commented on in fear of breaking their uneasy truce. Stannis would let Robert do what he wanted, when he wanted, so long as he didn’t break any of the boundaries set.

Finally, the land was rewarded with sunshine after three long months of seemingly endless rain and thunder. No one celebrated clear skies in Storm’s End. They were more unpredictable than a storm. Instead, they acted. Families ran out to the beaches to go for a swim, people tended to their crops and livestock, and most importantly, the shipmakers brought out their tools of trade.

There were many reasons Steffon Baratheon was beloved by his people, but one of them was his dedication to the commonfolk. As soon as Lord Baratheon heard the birds, he was readying himself for a hard day’s work. Robert was eager to join him. The two of them reported to the harbor, where they were greeted with cheers and bows before being directed to where they were needed most. This was a tradition. For centuries, the Lords of Storm’s End had graced their presence at these harbors, helping give back what the storm gods took away. As a child, Robert used to watch his father carry lumber around like a giant, nailing down planks, and tying sails, eager to join him in the act. Steffon was a strong man, even now, but back then, he was a god amongst men. He could do twice the amount of work as any aged builder in half the time. Robert loved how much the people loved his father. How they said he was a great lord because he was a man of the people. Robert was eager to follow in his footsteps; the heir always tried to help, usually by lifting an axe or hammer beyond his size, before getting it swiped away from him by some grinning sailor. When that happened, his father would sit him down and forced him to perform the more tedious tasks, like getting water or providing rations. Robert hated that. It was omega’s work, he insisted, which earned the ire of his brother who performed his designated chores with diligence.

Today, Robert was old enough to get his hands dirty, and by the gods, did his father sully them. For hours, Robert worked on ship after ship, mending oars and helms like the gods had afforded them an unlimited stock. The planks got more cumbersome by the hour, and he swore the sun was melting the nails to duds. His arms hurt, and his legs felt like they tied to the anchors he fitted onto the ships. By the afternoon, Robert thought he was dead. He’d long stripped off his shirt, and he wished he wore less than the trousers he was given. His men laughed at his fatigue and cheered when he started working again. In the end, they managed to finish three ships — one for Storm End’s armada, and two trading vessels for the local sailors. The hardship was great, but Robert could honestly say that it was the best experience he had as a lord yet.

Before the day was finished, Lord Baratheon recommended his people enjoy the remaining hours of sunshine.

“The sky was not getting any better,” their lord advised them with a smile. Everyone was happy to comply, especially Robert, who told his mother and brothers were already waiting in a spot near their castle. They walked over in great haste, hoping to make the most of their remaining time. When they arrived, they spotted Lady Baratheon and her troop of handmaidens and guards at once. She looked stunning as always in her swimming dress and kissed her husband and son hello.

“You look like death!” She cried and kissed her husband again. “I hope all went well.” 

“It did,” his father responded. “Three ships in one day. Robert didn’t take a single break. You should be proud.”

“I am,” his mother beamed. “Just like his father.”

Robert grinned back. “Hopefully, that will spare me a lecture.” He looked around. “Where is Stannis.”

“Oh, he’s in the water, teaching Renly how to swim. It’s…not be easy,” his mother said with a laugh. “We were trying before the storms and thought we’d let Stannis test his luck. Told him it was good practice for his future children.”

Robert frowned. “Can’t believe he fell for that,” Robert told her. He heard his parents laughed. Robert turned around to look for his brothers and spotted them immediately. Renly was a brat, as always, and Stannis was…considerably underdressed.

“He’s nearly naked.” 

“Well, I wasn’t going to have him learn in wool,” his mother jested.

“Not Renly,” Robert growled. “Stannis.” Stannis was wearing a sheer, white shirt with a low dip down his chests, and his pants cut to the midpoints of his calves with material just as thin.

His mother used her hand to cover the glare of the sun. “Oh, that's hardly cause for concern. The air is so warm from the storms, it wouldn’t make sense for him to cover up.” She smiled shakily. “And he’s mentioned a fever for a while,” she whispered under her breath.

Ah, a fever. The murmur in her voice told Robert that her hope was beginning to wane. There have been almost five false alarms in the last three weeks, and now, Cressen was suggesting sending an authority from the Citadel to come visit. 

Robert was brought out of his thoughts by some nonsensical yelling. He turned to the sea, where Renly was thrashing in the water. Stannis struggled to keep his hold on him, but there was clear irritation on his face.

“Perhaps Renly isn’t ready to learn,” Lady Baratheon suggested worriedly. All of them watched the youngest Baratheon go underneath the surface only for Stannis to dive under and bring him back up within seconds. There was no real threat. The two were still in shallow water, and if Renly had moved two feet further to shore, he could stand and survive.

Lord Baratheon sighed. “He’s not like you, or your brother,” he clarified. “When I taught you how to swim, I tossed you into the water, and it took you a second to figure out how to move your body. You were fearless. Stannis, he almost drowned when I did the same. I refused to try again. I told him to wait another year. He was my omega, and I wanted to protect him.” Lord Baratheon chuckled. “The next day, he went to the ocean without me. Three fishermen ended up saving him from the rocks, and the day after that, one of the guards spotted him washed up on shore. I thought about locking him up, but before I could, he’d already snuck out one final time. He taught himself.” 

“That sounds like him,” Robert chuckled.

A blood curdling scream was heard from the water.

“And that sounds like Renly,” his father sighed.

The party watched Renly throw a tantrum in the sea. It appeared he possessed the ability to stay afloat simply for the sake of causing Stannis strife, as he thrashed in the water and attempted to disarm Stannis with his tiny fist. Stannis was making an effort to calm him, and like with most of his attempts communicating with people, he was failing. He tried to grab Renly to bring them to shore, but the boy wouldn’t stay still. Stannis’ chance came when a huge wave washed over them. Stannis dived underneath and pulled his brother to the sands before he had a chance to gain his wits. It was a generous amount of time.

As soon as the two brothers reached land, Renly coughed up the last of the water in his gut. He was a dramatic, tearful thing, who quickly lost interest in regurgitating his aquatic lesson, and went running into his mother’s arms. “I hate him!” Renly cried to their mother. He threw a tantrum on how mean his brother was, and how he never wanted to swim again because of him.

“Brat,” Stannis muttered.

“Hush,” their mother scolded. She stroked her youngest son’s hair. “Stannis, you know Renly is delicate.” She cooed at her son, holding her tight in her arms until the omega settled down. Stannis snorted in displeasure, unaware of the difficulties his older brother faced.

Whether he was aware of it, or simply uncaring, Stannis had lost his shirt during the final wave. His chest was bare for bathing, and his shorts were dripping wet, clipping to every crevices of his bottom half. Their parents may not see anything wrong with how Stannis looked, but Robert wasn’t blind. Robert could get hard looking at his brother in the halls. The beach was a cursed.

The heir to Storm’s End immediately offered him a towel, which Stannis accepted without complaint.

“You’re shirtless,” Robert coughed.

Stannis paused. He took a second to notice his appearance, before turning back to Robert. An eyebrow was raised. “So are you.”

Robert thought he could bang his head with less subtlety. “Stannis, you’re an omega.”

His younger brother sighed. “I’m fine. It’s so hot, there’s probably another storm on its way…” Stannis trailed off. His voice sounded clotted, and his eyes were like a mirage.   
“You want to go for another swim?” Robert offered. “I’d be a better companion than Renly.”

“No, no.” Stannis shook his head. “I need water.” He grabbed his flask and drank as much as he could in one gulp. “It’s so fucking hot. I feel like a lobster boiling in water.” He finished the rest of his water.

Robert reached forward to offer his own container. When Stannis grabbed it, their fingers touched. Robert almost jumped from the intense heat that radiating off of Stannis’ skin.

That wasn’t sunburn, Robert thought, a knot in his gut and cock tying itself as the realization hit him. Robert took another deep breath to be sure, and true enough, the scent of delicious, ripe omega filled his nostrils. He knew that smell, and he knew that burn. With his senses still intact, he glanced over at his parents who concerned themselves with Renly. Then, Robert turned back to Stannis draining his flask of its last drop.

“We should head back to the castle. There’s more water there.”

Stannis frowned. “There’s lots of water here.”

“Yes, but you can’t drink the water here.” Robert explained. “It’s not your water.” He kept his voice low in case his father overheard and was alerted to the situation. He placed his hand on Stannis’ back and led him away from their family with a firm, tense push.

Stannis moaned in delight at the touch. “You feel good.”

Robert walked faster. It was a miracle no one heard that maddening, _sinful_ sound—. “Let’s go back.”

The two of them dashed towards the direction of their keep. Robert wished he’d brought a horse, because the sand made it hard to move, and if they ran, Robert doubt he could resist a chase and claim. Then, they would definitely get caught.

“You smell good. Why do you smell so good?” Stannis muttered. The clouds were overtaking the sky of Stannis’ eyes. His skin was on fire. Robert bet his pussy felt like a furnace, too.

“I smell good because I’m an alpha.” Robert paused. “Your alpha.”

Stannis hummed. Still stubborn to the fault, Stannis stopped. Robert wanted to yell at him to move, when Stannis leaned in and asked, “Well, _alpha_. Will you fetch me some water?”

Fuck, Robert would give him all the water in Storm’s End if his brother called him that again. The two were almost at the main road to the castle when he heard the shout of his father’s guards.

“Lord Robert. Lord Stannis!” he called out with a breath too hard. He must have run after them.

Robert tried to stifle down his displeasure. He put on a big smile for his father’s men and turned around.

“Yes?” Robert asked. “Is something the matter?”

The guard straightened up. He frowned as he observed the pair. Stannis was slowly losing his wits about him, and with every passing moment, the threat of them being caught was real. His younger brother retreated further into his older brother’s frame; his face hidden by Robert’s large shoulder.

“You left without warning. Lord Baratheon wished to know where you were headed.”

Stannis was getting needier. He started moving in place; drawn to the scent of an alpha, Stannis drew even closer to his brother. Robert could feel his bare skin pressed against his body. 

“Back to Storm’s End. We’ll be right back,” Robert promised. “Stannis only wants to rest a bit at home. Renly is a handful, even for Stannis, it seems.” Robert laughed, hoping his good spirits was convincing.

The man frowned but didn’t respond negatively. Not yet. “Is Stannis well? He looked ill earlier.”

From the side, Stannis released a groan of discontent. This conversation was wearing on him as it did Robert. “He is tired,” Robert repeated. “All this sun after so long. A nap will do him good.”

The conversation reached a standstill. The guard seemed reluctant to push further. Robert saw that he was not too much older than himself, and though he was skilled enough to selected as one of his father’s personal men, he lacked the experience of dealing with Robert.

Finally, the guard spoke. “If that is all…” His left foot took a step back, and it seemed he was about to pivot the other way, when Stannis, impossible, cockteasing, _infuriating_ Stannis revealed his face. Desperate for refreshment, his brother sought the nearest source. Robert’s sweat dripped all over his body, and Stannis filled his thirst by pressing onto his toes and licked the drops on his brother’s neck. 

The following events happened all in a sequence of blurs. Despite being a member of his father’s guard, he was still weaker than Robert. Stannis was thrown on the side as Robert tackled the other man to the ground before his sword could be drawn. He fought back at first, son of his lord or not, his life was in danger, before deciding that his life would be better salvaged from surrender. Robert slammed his fist into the side of the face, and his consciousness and body sunk into the sand.

Before Robert could finish him off, he felt a pull on his arm. He snarled at the other figure, only to find it was a barely standing omega, dripping as if the seas flowed from his thighs. The alpha could no longer think of anything but plowing that precious pussy, and sowing that fit, fertile field of a body. The omega couldn’t wait for his alpha, either. He stripped his bottom of any protection and left himself bare for the world to see. Robert lost all control at that moment. He threw Stannis to the ground and attacked his mouth. The omega moaned and opened his mouth to his aggressor. His legs were spread wide open, and cunt, so familiar and wet, was now pink and accepting as well. Robert ripped open his pants to release his cock. He pressed the tip inside and was about to ram all the way through when he grabbed and thrown off his brother.

The rut muddled his mind to a point he no longer recognized his own father. In his eyes, the older alpha was just another man who sought to steal his omega out of his grasp. Robert lunged at him. Steffon Baratheon swung his powerful fist into his son’s face, breaking his nose, before using his arm to wrestle him to the ground. When that proved to be a struggle, his men helped. Robert, in his haze, watched his omega get dragged to his feet and covered up. He would have gained the strength to the attack if his instincts didn’t recognize Stannis’ kidnappers as omegas. He watched them take him away, and after a few more attempts of escape, Steffon’s bicep pressed against his throat, and put him to sleep.

***

Robert woke up four days after the incident.

The rut would have taken longer, except his father had sent for several whores to relieve his frustration, all who were welcomed with resignation and force. He expected there to be discomfort, or tension, but was instead greeted with decorations of gold and black around the castle, the large chattering of celebrations, and the never-ending footsteps in and out of his mother’s workspace. People were happy.

“Stannis has bloomed. Of course, we’re happy. Why wouldn’t we be?” Steffon explained. The guards were ordered to send his son to his room as soon as he woke up. The maester would expect a visit shortly after.

Robert frowned. His head hurt, and his face still looked like he ran into a wall, but he would heal. When his father offered him some wine to ease the pain, he took it, but refused any poppy. “Where is Stannis?”

Steffon narrowed his eyes. Then, he grinned. “He’s finishing up his heat. Maester Cressen predicted it’d be another day or two, and of course, we’ll have the ceremony in the following month. Your mother has been a mission all week.”

Silence entered the room. Robert could never hold his tongue, so when the quiet became too much, he asked what would happen to him.

Steffon raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Why would anything happen to you?”

“I tried to—”  
“You tried to protect your brother’s honor. I’m proud of you.”

Robert was taken back. “I attacked you,” he clarified.

“You thought your brother’s virtue was at risk and attacked any alpha that came into the vicinity. I’m proud of you. You’ve gotten quite strong. I felt that punch for days.”

Robert said nothing in response.

Steffon smiled, and then sighed. “It’s not impossible for blood to attract blood. Rare, but not impossible. And I knew it was a particular risk for our family—it’s all that Targaryen in us.” Steffon shook his head. “It’s why I didn’t stop the animosity in your relationship with Stannis. I thought it was for the better, but it seems my efforts were futile.” Steffon returned back to his usual, jovial self. “But all is well, I suppose. Your brother has had his heat, I will return to King’s Landing, and Storm’s End will soon be yours to rule. Everyone wins.”

Everyone wins, Robert mocked in his head. Robert took a seat across from his father. “What happens to Stannis?”

Steffon looked at his son. Robert wondered if he suspected it wasn’t a fluke that Robert attacked his brother.

“Do you remember the story of Rhaenys Targaryen?” His father asked.

Robert scoffed. “Everyone knows Rhaenys Targaryen.” Sister-wife and favored queen of King Aegon Targaryen.

“No, not the queen.” Steffon leaned back. “I speak of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. ‘The Queen Who Never Was,’ or at least that was what they called her.” He chuckled. “King Jaehaerys Tagaryen’s heir had died, leaving behind the seat of Dragonstone, the rightful home of the next heir. The heir had one daughter, and that daughter was half a Baratheon. Rather than give an omega—a woman no less—her rightful title, he selected his brother, Baelon as the future king. She was a great beauty, clever, capable, and proud. She was fearless in battle, with a temperament to match any dragon. She listened to her advisors but thought for herself.” Steffon sighed. “She would have made a great queen. She would have led armies’ instead of hiding in her castle. Held trials instead of executions. Can you imagine that? A Baratheon becoming queen. A queen worth following.”

Robert said nothing.

“When I leave for King’s Landing,” Steffon told his son, “Stannis will be coming with me.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“'All that Targaryen in us?’” Robert repeated from their earlier conversations. “And now you wish to add more.”

“It needs to be done.”

“The king is a mad man.”

“He is your king.”

“He’s a mad man,” Robert insisted.

“Even mad men die,” Steffon declared as he slammed his fist onto the ground, causing the table to shake. Robert sat still. Not because of terror, but for the pain in his father’s voice. “All men die.” 

Robert could not remain silent. Not on this matter. “You would leave your son in madness’ hands.”

“Yes,” Steffon admitted. He would not deny the shame of his actions. “But before that, I am leaving the kingdom in Stannis’ hands.”

***

The most miraculous thing that occurred when Stannis woke up was that neither Robert nor Stannis avoided each other. They ate together. Sparred together. Sometimes when they were forced to, they studied together. Robert still wanted to touch, but he knew everyone was watching them, waiting for another repeat performance, and they wanted to be ready if it did. Sometimes, Robert suspected their father was testing them. The possibility kept his desires at bay. Then, on his loneliest nights, he remembered the old man was preparing to leave for King’s Landing, so perhaps he’d be careless. Robert considered sneaking into Stannis’ rooms for old time’s sakes, but all it’d take was a wayward glance from a guard, and he’d hold back his thoughts for another time. 

The days pass. Each moment looked like a brief portrait, and the lands changed into a landscape painting. Sometimes, Robert swore he caught Stannis staring, but then again, Stannis watched everyone, so maybe he wasn’t special. Robert knew he was then and tried his best to catch his eye the next time it happened. He hadn’t been successful, but there was a lot of time.

Finally, their calm ended on the second day of the month. A week before Steffon Baratheon was set to leave for King’s Landing, one of their men spotted a large party with flags of gold and the sigil of lions coming up to the gate.

It was undeniable. Tywin Lannister had come to Storm’s End. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!  
I'm sorry this took so long to write. I just wanted to get it out so I was careless with the editing (more so than usual - I just ran it through my writing program and skimmed the problem areas. Not good. Don't follow my example). I didn't realize reading this would be so hard, and I kept getting distracted (please blame law school and my friend for getting me into new fandoms - I've been watching nonstop soccer/football videos for the last week). Also, blame me. 
> 
> Regardless, I'm so happy this chapter is finished because now I can work on completing my other stories and start new ones. I'm really excited, and I hope you can all be patient because this won't be updated for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

If the Lord of Storm’s End was upset, he did not let it show. Instead, Steffon Baratheon opened up his arms to the Hand of the King. Lord Baratheon sounded jovial; his voice could threaten thunder on its quietest days. He embraced Tywin Lannister, despite the singeing glare the lion gave him. Robert’s father was friends to many, but there were few he titled his blood brothers, and Tywin Lannister, much to the skepticism of many, was one of them. They grew up together. Steffon was a storyteller, and he would often tell his sons about his time serving as a page in King’s Landing, becoming friends with the then Prince Aerys Targaryen and now Hand, Lord Tywin Lannister. Robert was fond of the stories—Stannis, not so much—but over the years, the stories became too familiar, and before Robert left for the Eyrie, he knew all of them by heart. Steffon didn’t speak about the status of their current relationship, but Robert assumed it was civil. His father truly cared for the king, and he didn’t bare the Hand any ill will.

“What are you doing here?” Steffon asked with a laugh. Anyone else, and the question may have sounded accusatory. From Lord Baratheon, it was merely a phrase of wonder. He sounded happy. He looked happy. If it weren’t for the slight tension in his shoulders, Robert would assume his father _was_ happy. “Does the King know where his Hand is?”

“The King knows how to wipe himself,” Tywin replied. He surveyed the area. “Lord Symond couldn’t stop talking about Stormlands since his return. It reminded me of how long it’s been since my last visit.” Tywin gestured to the carriage behind him. “My children have yet to see your castle; I would not have them miss the opportunity. It'd be shameful for a Lannister to be so uncultured.” 

“Ha! I bet you’re just slacking off on your duties.” Steffon teased. “I knew you had it in you!” He waved over to the Lannister girl who had just left her caravan. “Lady Cersei, you’re as stunning as ever. Travel becomes you.” 

Cersei bowed obediently. She gave her greetings, stating how happy she was to be here. Robert only meant to send an appreciative glance, but it soon turned into a stare. Few people live up to their reputations, but Cersei Lannister was doubtlessly a contender for the most beautiful girl in Westeros. Everything about Cersei was perfect, from her golden hair to her spellcasting green eyes; worst yet, she dressed extravagantly, to a point where it was wasteful. Her natural beauty was already too much for most to witness. 

Cersei smiled at him coyly. Robert smiled back. He tried not to laugh.

Robert was familiar with such harpies. If she were not Tywin Lannister’s daughter, he would have her limping to her father’s side the next morning with the remnants of his shame leaking from her mouth. 

After Robert’s smile, Cersei forced out a blush and looked away to project her demureness, but Robert could see the smirk sliding onto her face. It was the cunts who thought they were cunning he found the most fun to break.

More footsteps followed. Robert saw a golden doppelganger emerge from the party. Suddenly, Steffon’s smile dropped, and though it was replaced immediately, the action did not go unnoticed by Lord Lannister.

“My son surprised me at King’s Landing as I prepared to leave. I saw little point in abandoning him. I trust this will not be a problem.”

Steffon’s smile did not falter again. “Nonsense!” He greeted Jaime Lannister with the enthusiasm of a glutton starving for guests. “I welcome your blood as if they are my own.” Steffon patted his friend on the shoulder before moving his arm around his waist and leading him into the castle. Lord Lannister stiffened. Still, he made no motion to leave Steffon’s arms. The Lord of Storm’s End motioned at his men to assist the Lannister party with their supplies. “Speaking of which, will your youngest be joining us as well?”

Tywin’s response was cold. “I left him at the Rock.”

Robert was disappointed by the news. He heard of the dwarf’s loathsome appearance and hoped to witness it in person. Perhaps another day, Robert thought. There were more pressing Lannisters at hand. Despite their fair appearance, Robert couldn’t deny the discomfort the twins brought.

“Shame,” Steffon cited. He praised him as a funny fellow. “Should have brought him along. Might have even given Stannis a laugh.”

“Stannis, your eldest omega?” Tywin identified. “I see the ease you hoped a blossoming would bring has evaded him.”

Steffon gave a theatrical sigh. “I told you those things in confidence!” Steffon shook his head. “I know, I know. Some people never change. You were right as always.” He winked, much to Lord Lannister’s chagrin. “Every time you prove me wrong, I tell myself to listen to you more, and then I never do. I don’t know how you put up with me!” Steffon laughed. He pulled Tywin in closer. Despite his visible annoyance, Robert could see the lord’s defenses weaken. He was taken in by Steffon, and Robert was sure this wasn’t the first time. Everyone fell to Steffon’s advances, from promised omegas to the most fearsome alphas of Casterly Rock.

The pair of lords walked to the castle at an even pace; Robert and the twins followed. They entered the great hall, and the conversation shifted from workday summaries to an invitation to use the baths. Before Robert’s father could suggest a tour for the twins, Robert excused himself. He sealed his freedom when he pointedly added he could postpone his lessons for the sake of guiding Tywin’s daughter around the castle—_alone_. The suggestion earned Robert an ire sigh from his father and a bone-chilling glare from the lord of lions. In the background, he heard the sound of steel scraping against the sheath. Cersei’s brother looked murderous.

Robert made way to his room before he recalled a more pressing issue. _Stannis_. Robert retraced his steps back to the highpoint of the tower, where he last joined his brother watching over Storm’s End. To his surprise, Stannis was still there, watching Tywin’s men shepherd into the gates like sheep.

“You’re still here?” 

Stannis did not face him. His shoulders lifted in a semblance of a shrug, but he was too stiff for a full one. “You came back.” 

Robert didn’t respond. He tried to move closer to Stannis, but as soon as he reached his back, his brother turned and headed into the castle. Unable to accept the rejection, Robert asked if he remembered King’s Landing. 

Stannis stopped. 

“We were children,” Robert began. “The first time we went to court, I had to hold your hand—you couldn’t have been older than four. We watched the king hold court, looking as noble as dragons were fearsome. You stared at him in awe. Then, a few years later, right after father had been given a spot on the council, he told us that the King had cut himself on the throne that morning, so his Hand took his place.” Robert walked forward. “It was Tywin Lannister who impressed you so.”

“I remember,” Stannis said coldly.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Stannis turned around.

“Do you still think he looks like a king?” Robert got close enough to grab Stannis' waist. This time, Stannis didn’t look away. He glared at his brother.

“Yes.” Stannis shoved his brother harshly. Robert had to take a step back. “And his son looks like a prince.” He stormed off to greet their guests. Robert was still reeling from the words. Stannis spoke like a sword, direct, hard, and unrelenting. Robert thought he was the most appealing like this.

***

Before the boys were called down to break bread with their guests, their mother informed them they needed to get dressed. “Fine wears, but not your finest. We must make a good impression, but not too good. We don’t want to think we’re challenging them.” she told them. Her smile was strained, and her voice, a tad panicked. She was far from her usual jovial self, and before Robert could ask what frightened her so, she had scampered off to deal with Stannis. Robert petulantly dressed in one of his silken shirts, but he entwined each button with a degree of cynicism. He shouldn’t have to dress up for these lions. This was his home. They were his guests. They were here for him.

No, Robert corrected. He looked into the mirror and noticed that the rage hadn’t left his face. They were here for _Stannis_. The heir walked into the dining room. He was the last to arrive and sat beside his brother, who made a small but noticeable effort to move away from him. Across from them were the Lannister twins. Robert refused to let it affect him; he was not going to be the lovestruck fool who _pined_ after an omega so far below his standards; it was an insult against himself.

Instead, Robert turned to Cersei Lannister for conversation. He found her voice grating—like a thousand lyres strung at the same time. The synchronization of her tone accompanied by the careful selection of her words was so perfect it was unnerving. Robert knew she didn’t want to talk to him either, judging by the way her eyes moved around the room. But Cersei was more of a marionette than a person, and her puppeteer was her father.

From the head of the table, Robert could see from their fathers’ conversations—intimate and seemingly endless—that the performance would go on for a while. Cersei and Robert's bitterness bred, and their disinterest grew; they made predictable jokes and laughed, and Robert resented Stannis with each smile for he sat in silence beside him, apathetic to the show. Stannis sat across from Jaime Lannister but refused to speak a word. His mother excused him as shy. Had the younger Baratheon been gifted with an ounce of literacy to read the room, he would see how Robert yearned to speak to him.

Unable to suffer alone, Cersei turned to Stannis. “We’ve been ignoring you. How rude of us,” Cersei addressed. “Tell me, Lord Stannis, what does one do at Storm’s End?”

“Do?”

Cersei smiled, showing each one of perfectly aligned fangs. More pretty than functional, Robert thought absentmindedly.

“I’ve never been to your capital before. It’s so different from Casterly Rock or King’s Landing. I suppose there’s some charm in the simplicity of provincial kingdoms_, _but I prefer the cities. Less _primitive_. Here the structures are sparse; I imagine there is little sophistication in the entertainment either.”

“There is plenty to enjoy.” Stannis took a bite out of his meal. “I’m sure there is something to entertain you. The air, perhaps.”

“Excuse me?” Cersei’s voice was high.

“The winds in the stormlands are good. They should be a welcome change from the filth you're used to.” There were no inflections in Stannis’ statement that implied he went any negativity. Even Robert was hard-pressed to detect any sourness, but then again, he was accustomed to Stannis' offputting behavior. 

Cersei barely recovered. She wasn’t used to being dismissed by another omega. Robert suspected she was the head of her little gaggle of girls in court. “So, there’s plenty to do at Storm’s End. Anything you recommend?”

“I don’t have a preference,” Stannis told her.

“You don’t like anything? How dull.”

“I do what I am told. I join my father on events if he allows it.”

The piety in Stannis’s answer raised Cersei’s hackles. She no longer sounded like she was melting sugar into her salt. Her hostility attracted the attention of their parents, but she didn’t notice. “He must allow your presence a lot.” She eyed the muscles on his body. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you apart from an alpha by your form. It’s unlike any omega I’ve ever seen. You must hunt a great deal.” 

“Yes.”

“Fish?”

“If the waters are calm.” 

“And,” Cersei cast an accusatory glance at Stannis’ arms, solid and distinguished from years of swordsmanship. “I’ve heard you spar. With alphas.”

Stannis’ lips folded into a thin line. “Many male omegas do. It’s not an uncommon skill.”

“Not in court,” Cersei replied. She turned to her brother as if he knew the punchline to the joke. He gave her a tight smile. “There are standards there. Omegas are expected to have etiquette and grace, and _class_. It’s laughable to think of an omega from here thinking they’re worthy of royal company—.”

Stannis set his cup down; he did not slam it on the tabletop, but he wasn’t gentle either. “I do hope you find a way to occupy yourself, Lady Cersei. Even the invalids can find ways to past the time. I cannot imagine how inept a person must be not to find something to do.”

The smug expression dropped from Cersei’s face. Before she could respond, Lord Lannister interrupted.

“Pardon my daughter, Lord Stannis. She’s been on edge throughout the trip. The fatigue has limited her sense,” Tywin said coldly, sending a warning look towards his daughter. 

Cersei bristled, and looked down, chastened by the insult.

Stannis nodded. Robert knew that meant the apology was unaccepted. He wondered if Lord Tywin noticed as well because his attention transferred entirely onto Robert’s brother. Stannis felt the green eyes on him. After taking a bite of his meal, Stannis turned to the Hand.

“Your father said you’re quite the swordsman,” Tywin noted. “I suppose your lessons have not stopped since you blossomed.”

Stannis didn’t answer. He looked over to their father, who gave his permission with a nod. Stannis returned his attention to the Hand.

“No,” Stannis answered. “My father believes it’d be a waste of talent.”

“Talent? You are skilled?”

“I am.”

“As much as your brother?”

“As good as any your guards,” Stannis replied without looking away. 

Tywin’s eyes flickered. His face was unreadable. “Then, I hope your father will find an appropriate tutor when you get to court. The king won’t be happy if your company contains other alphas, for whatever reason.”

“If I am ever at King's Landing, and that is what His Grace wishes, my father will comply.”

“Your father is a dutiful man,” Tywin agreed. “I assume the same of you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you are a dutiful omega? Or yes, you will comply with your father’s wishes?” 

“The question is the same. They have the same answer.”

“Do they?”

“Until I am married, yes,” Stannis agreed. He tried to drink his water, but his goblet had run out. His waiting-maid hastily grabbed a pitcher to refill it, having slacked on her duties due to the tension. She apologized, and Stannis accepted it silently. "Then, my husband will have command over me." 

Robert swore he didn't mean to bend his knife. 

“From your sire’s lap to your alpha’s bed. The picture of virtue,” Tywin declared, much to the discomfort of the others in the room. “I expect you are a virgin.”

“Tywin!” Steffon shouted. 

His caution went unheard. “It’s a question I’m sure you’ve been asked many times and over,” Tywin reasoned. “If he goes to court, he’ll have to answer it often.”

“He is under no obligation to answer,” Steffon retorted. "Not for any _lord_." 

“Can he not speak for himself?”

“I can speak,” Stannis snapped. He stood his ground, but Robert saw his fist balling underneath the table. “I am a virgin.” For a second, he glanced over at Robert and then immediately turned away. 

There was a moment where Tywin said nothing. Then, he asked Stannis, “Have you received any offers for your hand?”

“I have not had my ceremony.”

"I’m sure someone of your standing has already received propositions.” Tywin glanced at his daughter. “It is more common than not.” 

“If my father receives a promising offer beforehand,” Stannis answered. “I would not oppose to forgoing one. I don’t care for the expense.”

“Smart.” The praise sounded dull. “Your father should be happy; obedience in a child is worth a thousand goldmines,” Tywin told him. “If you’re so dutiful to your husband, it’ll be as if he married a queen.”

Cersei scratched her nails against the table until they almost bent. She looked furious, but she remained silent. Her father paid her no mind. 

“I trust my father’s judgment,” Stannis replied. “He will find me a worthy husband.” 

“You sound so sure,” Tywin noted, but it did not sound like praise. “Your father is a good man. The problem with men of honor is that they tend to make decisions based on the good of many rather than the one.” 

“That hardly sounds like a problem.”

“It is when the one shares blood.” Tywin stared at him unblinkingly. “A man’s legacy should be his greatest concern.”

“That’s not true,” Stannis disagreed immediately. “Any animal will try to ensure the survival of his young. That is instinct. There’s dignity in fulfilling one’s purpose.”

“Dignity?” Tywin gave a soft scoff. “We are buried in the dirt like animals; our bones turn to ash like animals. A man writes our history, and it is what makes us human. Aegon the Conqueror had no duty when he conquered Westeros—”

“His _wives_ did, his sons did,” Stannis cut in, more heated than he should have been. Robert saw the twins’ mouths gaped, and he expected no one had ever interrupted their father before. “They had a duty to live, and breed, and rule. There is no meaning in life without a duty. It doesn’t matter if we lose the gods, or our loved ones, because having a purpose means living another day to see it through.” He glared at Tywin. “One man does not make a legacy.”

“Yet one man can destroy one, and it is not duty that will save him, when his house burns to the ground." 

Stannis shut his mouth. He was glaring; his mind must be storming for a response because Robert knew his brother refused to bend for principle, not for Lord Lannister, not even for the king. Everyone at the table sat in silence. Robert looked at his father, and his face was blank as if he didn’t know whether to be proud or horrified at what his son said and choose to feel nothing. 

“You look like your father just now,” Tywin told him, after their brief pause. Stannis was taken back. “It’s your eyes. He looks the same when he refuses to listen to reason.”

Before Stannis could defend himself, Tywin asked him what he would do to fulfill his duty as queen.

“What?” Stannis stared at him.

“Tell me, what would be the first act as a ruler of Westeros? You must have thought about it. All noble omegas do.” He glanced over at his daughter, who turned red with embarrassment. 

Robert expected Stannis to reply in the same manner as he had all those months ago after their rendezvous in the woods. Instead, Stannis looked straight into Tywin’s eyes and answered:

“I’d remove the people who didn’t want me on the throne.”

***

Stannis was angry when Robert followed him after their meal, but for once, his anger wasn’t directed at Robert.

“You shouldn’t follow me,” Stannis snapped. He stormed down the hall. Robert chalked it off as win since his brother's words weren’t an outright dismissal. 

“I wanted to see if you were well. You appeared upset.”

Stannis stopped and faced him. “I am fine. Lord Tywin is the Hand of the King. I was honored to engage in a conversation with him.” His words were dull, well-practiced, and appropriate. 

Robert watched his mouth as he spoke. Then, he gave Stannis a small smile. “I never mentioned Lord Tywin.”

Stannis’ face twisted, losing any semblance of composure. “What do you want, Robert?”

Robert got closer. “You’ve changed since your heat.”

“That’s to be expected—”

“No, you’ve gotten more mature. More…_fierce_,” Robert observed, recalling the ferocious calm Stannis had directed towards the Lannister. Like a hailstorm so violent, there was no sound. Robert gave Stannis a once over and an expression of approval appeared on his face. “More erotic.” 

Stannis rolled his eyes. “More worthy of being bred, you mean.” He marched away from his brother.

Robert did not let up. “You know why they’ve targeted you. They are spiteful.”

“Were they?” Stannis asked a note of sarcasm flavoring his tongue. “I noticed nothing.”

The heir to Storm’s End was torn between exasperation and amusement. Stannis was trying so hard to behave properly, but Robert could see the cracks on the surface. His dignity would shatter if Robert continued the integration, so like any older brother, Robert pushed.

“The Lannisters knows the king wants you for his son—”

“Robert, _stop_.” 

“You will be the queen, and his daughter will not. Everyone knows about the king’s slight against the Lannisters. If the king makes father his Hand and you are made queen, it will the ultimate declaration of war against the Lannisters. They would be forced to act.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Stannis swore. “Lord Lannister is the Hand. He is a great one, and regardless of how behaved tonight or any other night, he has done his duty well. The kingdom has only prospered under Tywin’s directive. He would not betray the king, no matter the strength of insult or the demotion. Furthermore, father is perfectly content in his position! He does not want to be the Hand”

“The King wants him to be the Hand,” Robert pressed, equally bullheaded. “He only loves father. He trusts no one, not his wife, not even his own son. There is no greater way to keep our father by his side.”

“That only proves a more reasonable alternative,” Stannis replied stubbornly, “That Lord Lannister is simply an ass, and he is upset by the king’s preference of our father. As for Cersei, she is a spoiled brat, and her behavior is simply to her nature—there is no deeper meaning.”

“Are you so blind?” Robert reached forward to grab him. Stannis jolted and tried to escape at once, but Robert’s grip was firm. “To deny the obvious intentions towards you?”

“Do not touch me,” Stannis commanded. He tried once again to get out of Robert’s grasp. “I am not joking. You cannot lay your hands on me, Robert! We can’t even be alone together!”

“Is that a law?” Robert challenged.

“You know what happens when we’re alone. You come up with these stupid ideas, and ridiculous conspiracies and—”

“And then I try to fuck you until you scream,” Robert growled as he slammed Stannis against the wall. Stannis grunted. Robert trapped him with his larger form. Stannis squirmed, rubbing his skin onto Robert and pressing his pert nipples against his older brother’s chest. Robert’s cock only got harder. He could smell the arousal between his little brother’s thighs. “You know this wouldn’t be a problem if you were able to resist me.”

“If you know this,” Stannis asked. “Why damn us both?”

Robert didn’t answer. He read into the deep lines of Stannis’ frustration and how his throat quivered from his shortness of breath. Then, Robert kissed Stannis as roughly as he could. He pried Stannis’ lips open to taste what was originally Robert’s. The prince could own Stannis, but everything his royal mouth touched would be secondhand to Robert’s tongue; from the thin, elegant fingers wrapped around his cock to sloppy folds of Stannis’ willing cunt Stannis eyes were closed but that only meant he was feeling every moment of Robert’s kiss. Robert’s hands did not fumble, and his hips gave an extra shove to remind his brother of the presence of his cock. Stannis didn’t pull away. His hands gripped Robert’s hair up and down his head, keeping him close. They would have gone on forever if the voices of their father and Lord Lannister didn’t warn them of the incoming presence.

Stannis’ eyes snapped open. He pushed Robert away and wipes his lips furiously. Robert was breathing as he would after a battle. Both their lips swelled. Stannis may have been able to escape from Robert, but they were both trapped. Lord Lannister would suspect nothing, but their father would be furious. The two of them rushed to find a hideaway, now brothers-in-arms instead of brothers in each other’s arms. The footsteps got louder, though the incoming parties were whispering now. Careful of making noise, the two of them rushed to the nearest door—a storage room filled with old furnishings and antiques. Yet, they were not free.

“Let us talk in private,” the boys heard their father say. Robert acted fast. He was not unfamiliar with this situation. He saw an oversized closet at the corner of the room and dragged his brother to it. Once inside, Robert pushed Stannis on his hands and knees. Robert had gotten on top of him, and before they could reposition themselves, the knob on the door turned. Robert closed the closet doors immediately. Stannis yelped in discomfort which forced Robert to shove his fingers inside his brother’s mouth.

The voices were now close and clear. Lord Lannister and their father were in the room. 

“Tywin, do not dismiss me. You went too far. Stannis is not some lord’s spy you can interrogate for information. He is my son.”

“He seemed capable of handling himself,” Tywin said offhandedly. “If anything, you should be grateful I held back.”

“Held back?” Steffon repeated. “You asked my son if he was still a _virgin_.”

“A fair question.”

“A disrespectful one. The very insinuation he wasn’t a virgin was an insult.” 

“You can never be too sure. Especially ones so isolated. Storm's End...you're all so used to the freedom of open spaces and faraway neighbors; no worries of peeping toms and scandals. I bet half the populace are rutting amongst sheep and cattle.” 

“That is not Stannis,” Steffon gritted out. “He is good and pure.” 

In the closet, Stannis’ body tensed against Robert. Robert grunted softly, not audible by the people outside, but loud enough to spur a jolt from Stannis. The action pushed his firm, toned ass against Robert’s rigid cock. Robert tried to control himself, but Stannis’ globes were his cock was perfectly nestled between his brother’s cheeks. It was tortuously good. His little brother closed his eyes. Stannis forced himself to take silent, staggered gasps around his brother’s fingers before attempting to change their positions. His action only further ground his bottom against Robert’s thick cock, pushing it further into the globes. 

Robert gritted his teeth. Inside, he was raging about his brother’s sluttish body. Fucking whore, he thought angrily. Despite knowing full well there was no place to turn, Stannis was moving just enough for the friction between their bodies to be pleasurable. Robert’s body burned against Stannis’ back as his cock was buried deeper into the crease.

“You are far too heated,” the two of them heard Tywin dismiss. “Will you show such fury when the king questions the business between your sons’ thighs?” 

“I have assured the king of Stannis’ dutiful nature.”

Tywin scoffed. “Of course, you believe the king will heed your words because he _adores_ his handsome, strong cousin.” Tywin scoffed. “Never mind that the bugs in his head have been swarming since we were children, buzzing about unfounded betrayals and monsters in the night. If you think love is enough to stop him from disgracing you as he has done me, you’ll be a foolish Hand.”

“I don’t want to be the Hand.”

“No, you just want to serve your king,” Tywin mocked. “Even if it means sacrificing your son.” 

Steffon sighed deeply. “Tywin, I love you like a brother, and you once said the same of our king. It hurts me to watch us drift apart.”

“Yes, but have you not thrived over our lost love?” Tywin asked. “Did you know he’s all but descended to the pits since you’ve left? Screams at the skies for raining traitors in his court; accuses the maids of sewing eyes into the curtains. He burnt so many people; my skin still smells of ash.”

The revelation made Stannis’ shiver. Robert pressed harder on top of him, as if his flushed body could give his little brother warmth.

"Despite it all, I stay," Tywin continued. "I give him words of reasons, and he spits out wildfire. He would have me hung if he could. I did nothing to cause the distance. That _Mad_ King—” 

“_Aerys_ is our friend,” Steffon said firmly. Both his sons could hear the suffering in his voice. “He is…not well, but that is why it is paramount we support him—for the good of the realm.”

“He does not want me there. He wants you,” Tywin accused. “He moans for his precious cousin like a lover, and if you were not an alpha, he’d order you to his bed long ago. I dare say you would have granted it,” Tywin hissed out. “It wouldn’t be fair if your son was the only Baratheon to spread his legs for the crown.”

“Tywin!” Steffon shouted loud enough, the room shook. He was fuming. The Baratheon boys had never heard their father so enraged. It would have brought a giant to his knees, but Tywin was no ordinary man.

“Let go of me,” Tywin ordered. Oddly enough, he sounded calmer than before.

There was a pause. Finally, Steffon asked, “Why are you doing this?” The defeat was heavy in his voice. “You don’t want to be the Hand. You’ve tried to leave before.”

“And Aerys refused, to spite me,” Tywin reminded him. “There was dignity in my resignation. Now, he wants to dismiss me?” Stannis shudder against Robert again; Tywin’s indignation was having a strange effect on Stannis’ body. “I won’t let him do this to me. Not without a fight, Steffon.”

“He needed you. It was not merely resentment that his fueled his actions.” The boys could hear his father try to charm Tywin, for his voice was low and soft. “Keeping you by his side was the smartest decision Aerys has ever made.” Steffon took a step closer. “And I thank the gods every day that he made it.” 

The sound of a closed fist smacking flesh echoed the room. Soon, there was yelling from both parties. Stannis bit down onto Robert’s fingers to keep from making a sound, and Robert slammed his teeth together to stop the pain from leaving his throat. He shoved his clothed cock onto Stannis backside, and the intensity of their position made him see red. Robert stopped his eavesdropping and focused entirely on the figure beneath him. Stannis was not an opportunity to be wasted. He could not move or make a sound; he just had to take whatever Robert gave him.

Robert started thrusting. Each thrust was shallow due to the lack of room, but they were powerful. The heir of Storm’s End made short, staccato motions into Stannis, using his little brother’s ass as a masturbatory tool. His fingers dug deeper into Stannis' mouth, nearly gagging as his cock grew against the puckering hole. Despite their clothes, Robert could feel the rim tighten each time his cock rubbed against it. His thrusts got harder, egged on by Stannis’ stillness, loving how his brother let the molestations happen.

Finally, they heard Lord Tywin yell at their father, “I hope your son watches you burn with the crown on his head!” Before the door slammed. Steffon Baratheon waited for a minute to past, before leaving the room. They wondered if their father was going to follow him or return to their mother's bedside.

At last, Robert released a loud, monstrous moan. He couldn’t hold back, lost in his own pleasure as his cock swelled and he came all over Stannis’ back. Before he could settle his loins, Stannis broke free from his grasp. He fumbled out the door and fell on the ground, trying to escape. He was staggering to his feet when Robert regained his composure.

Stannis’ bowed legs had him stumbling towards a dusty cabinet. Robert was used to a quick recovery post-pleasure. He was able to get to Stannis’ side, and before his little brother had the sense to push him away, he closed in on a kiss. Stannis made the softest whimper before he kissed back. For the first time, Stannis let Robert have his fill of him. When they parted, it was on Robert's terms.

Robert prepared for a hit. He expected such violence for his behavior, and the best course of action was to suffer through it before aggravating Stannis for a second round. Instead, Stannis leaned against the table. He stared off at the wall, and covered his mouth, thinking to himself. Before Robert could ask if he was alright, his hand dropped his side and clutched the table beside him. 

“You were right,” Stannis whispered.

Robert stared at his brother. He forgot about the situation they just witnessed and cracked a small, inappropriate smile. “Should I call for the maester? I want him to record this—”

“Robert.”

Robert looked into his brother’s lightless, blue eyes.

“I am going to be queen,” Stannis told him. He was in disbelief. The realization was finally hitting him. 

Robert swallowed, and after a moment, nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. He did not want to spook his younger brother, but the truth could no longer be denied. “The king has been waiting for your blossoming. Father and mother were waiting for the prince to return from Essos before telling you.”

“What?” Stannis turned to him in shock. “You knew?” His voice was high, bordering hysterical for someone like Stannis. “How?”

Robert was taken back by the outburst. “Father told me—”

“So it wasn’t a game? I thought you were playing the fool, letting yourself indulge in some base fantasy of fuckingthea queen, but you _knew_.” Stannis got in Robert’s face as he unleashed his rage. “You knew, and you tried to fuck me anyways. You jeopardized the kingdom for your fucking cock!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Of course, you don’t!” Stannis shouted, no longer mimicking the ghosts in the halls to avoid attention. He was so angry, Robert doubted he cared if anybody walked him. “You don’t think!” Stannis hissed at him. “The consequences never crossed your mind. That our father is the one man the king trusts and marrying his whore son to the prince would release the kingdom into chaos!”

“Do not be dramatic,” Robert scoffed. The strike Robert expected finally came, and it was a stinger. Stannis’ hand was sure to leave a mark the next morning.

“How are you so fucking blind?” Stannis hissed out. “These people are Tagaryens. Madness runs in their fucking, inbred blood. All it takes is a single suspicion, and it is our father in the fire. I had a duty prepared for me. A duty that could mean saving this faulty kingdom from its foundation.” 

“Stannis.” Robert couldn’t think of the right words to say, so he said what was on his mind. “Even if you are going to be queen, it doesn’t mean you’ll rule.” 

Stannis shook his head, cursing his brother’s ignorance as if the man was not in the room. “A wife’s duty is to their husband, but a queen is to the king’s. And the king must rule. I would have served the kingdom,” Stannis told him, desperate and red from his heated words.

But Robert wasn’t listening to reason. He was a man of passion and moment, and he couldn’t listen to his brother’s folly any longer. “It does not matter what you can do or what could happen. We only know what happens now. If you fuck me, you know you would feel more pleasure than anything in the world,” Robert promised much to Stannis’ disgust. “That moment is worth the risk. That is the purpose of life. I would rather have a hundred regrets from the things I’ve done, than waste a single second regretting what I didn’t.”

“Every moment sleeps in the past, but it is the future that matters."

“All that awaits us in the future is death.” Stannis turned away, scoffing at his brother’s foolishness. Robert took ahold of him and forced their eyes to meet. “Why not enjoy every moment leading us to our fates. It doesn’t matter if you're the queen or just my brother. This is the moment we are living in,” Robert’s thumb moved across his brother’s face before landing on his lips. He pushed through. Stannis moaned in pleasure as he sucked the digit into his mouth. His free hand moved down Stannis’ waist. “A moment no one would have to know about. Not father, not the king, not even your husband. Just you and me. You can have the pleasure of my cum stuffed in your cunt while you sit on the throne,” Robert promised. “You can have duty and pleasure. There is no reason to choose between both.” 

For reasons Robert could not understand, Stannis was not swayed. His brother left his gasp. The younger Baratheon rushed to the door and cursing Robert’s name. Stannis’ hand was on the knob when Robert took a step forward.

“Don’t follow me!” Stannis ordered, but it sounded more like a plea. His little brother took a deep breath. Robert faced him from a distance. "It is so easy for you," Stannis hissed. 

Robert said nothing. 

“Robert…” Stannis took another breath and shook his head. “You are brother, yet, I don’t know if ever loved you beyond what was required of blood.” 

Stannis turned around. His eyes were storming with rage and wetness that he would never let fall—not in front of Robert, and not for him, either. “Despite that, I thought I could trust you.” 

The confession paralyzed Robert. Stannis left afterward, but Robert did not follow him. His body couldn’t move, not even his tongue. Robert waited until the paralysis wore off before he returned to his room. He thought about consoling his brother or begging for forgiveness, before he realized the moment had passed.

***

Robert remembered all the apologies he made, for they were few and in between. People often just forgave his bad behavior, or they brushed them off as trivial pursuits. Even a stubborn dog like Ned couldn’t stay angry at him for long. His foster brother had forgiven him for the worst of crimes; from seducing a comely maid, Ned had a crush on to getting them into tavern fights during a drunken stupor. Omegas, who swore at him to lose a testicle, would later sob for a second chance. Alphas, he wronged, would sooner become his friend than his enemy. The only person who was immune to his charms was Stannis.

Stannis remained cold and unforgiving for the smallest offenses. He remembered when they were children; their father took them to a breeder to receive their first birds for hawking. Robert had selected a gyrfalcon he named Thunderclap, who Robert would later discover would never miss a strike, for the flying beast was as accurate as he was bold. Stannis, on the other hand, was not much of a hawker. He had mediocre success with all the birds given to him, many nipping at his fingers as soon as he touched them. His luck changed when the omega came across a limp, injured goshawk huddled in one of the back nest. The breeder had informed him that the bird was an outcast, born with a short leg, and further ostracized by its brood because of it.

“They did a number on him,” the man said, a bit remorseful for the lost profits, “His wing is lame. He can flutter like a chick if he tries, but there’s not much that can be done for him.”

For some reason, Stannis was smitten. Robert had teased him for behaving like an omega, caring for the weakest of the young, but Stannis had ignored him. He adopted the bird and named him Proudwing. The feathery beast healed quite nicely under Stannis’ guidance, and after several months of attentive nursing, he was finally able to reach the treetops of Storm’s End. He never soared, but Stannis never gave up trying. “The breeder said he would never fly, and now he has. I’m sure we can get some distance.” Stannis beamed about his accomplishment, and for weeks, all his free time went to caring for the damaged creature. When Robert offered to lend him Thunderclap for hawking, Stannis refused. There was always something to do with Proudwing. One minute he needed to be fed, and the other second it was time for training. Once, Stannis spent a whole hour watching the creature take a soak in the bird bath.

Robert was furious. He didn’t understand why Stannis wanted to devote all his time to a defected bird. He mocked his brother for days, calling the creature “Weakwing” and berating Stannis for the wasted effort. Eventually, Stannis had taken to ignoring him completely. Robert redirected his complaints to their great-uncle. Harbert listened to Robert berate his brother for turning into a fool for the hawk. He went on about how humiliating it was to see his sibling fond over the creature like it was a child, forgetting their lessons together, and feeding him scraps of fish he caught when they should have been together as a family. It was undignified. Eventually, Harbert found reason in his argument, and talked to his brother personally. Harbert was a man of old principles. He liked Stannis and thought he was above “most omegas” for his discipline and strength. It was why he said it _terrible_ to see Stannis fall so low. Harbert warned Stannis not to let his emotions rule him, and advised his nephew to abandon the bird, less his failures turn him to a mockery. Stannis, so young and impressionable, listened.

The omega released the bird into the wild, and the following days he was inconsolable. He performed his duties like a slave. He only allowed Maester Cressen near him, and when someone tried to break him from his stupor, he lashed out of them or retreated to his room. Stannis’ behavior upset Robert to the point of confrontation. In their fight, Robert confessed to sending Harbert to him. “You were becoming weak, and _boring_,” Robert whined. Stannis’ eyes went wide, and his fist shook as he demanded more clarification. Robert told him everything, and the reaction was immediate. They ended up wrestling on the floor, giving each other black eyes and bruises until two servants had to separate them. Stannis promised to never forgive him, and the two didn’t speak for weeks.

Months passed before the two of them had finally returned to normal. Stannis was distant as always, but he no longer went out of his way to ignore Robert, and Robert thought the matter had been forgotten. Then, one day, he’d ruined his book, and the maester ordered him to borrow one from Stannis’ collection. While searching for a copy in Stannis’ room, he opened a compartment in his desk. There, Robert came across a feather. Robert immediately knew where it was from—Stannis never tried hawking again after losing Proudwing, so there was only one bird that ever frequented his bedroom. 

Stannis never forgave him, and he would carry his anger to the grave. Robert believed there was no one like Stannis in the world; who could pump love in their hearts like blood and hate with every fiber of their being.

***

The next morning, Stannis acted as if he was alone on the battlefield. He saw everyone as his enemy. Their father, for hiding his intentions, his mother for continuing the ruse, Robert for his lying, and the Lannisters for their opposition to his calling. Eventually, the mood became so dim that they mirrored their darkening skies.

Stannis asked to excuse himself, unable to swallow even the smallest of morsels.

“Is everything alright, dear?” Their mother asked.

Stannis, to his credit, did not glare at her. He looked down as he answered. “I did not sleep well.”

“Of course,” Lady Baratheon agreed readily. “It must be all the excitement! My eyes barely closed for an hour the whole night.” She put on a happy face, but there were bags under her eyes. Strange, Robert thought, considering no one had asked her of anything since the Lannisters arrived. He wondered where all her troubles aroused from.

“My condolences for the stress,” Tywin said civilly. 

Lady Baratheon’s eyes widened. “Oh no!” She protested. “I didn’t mean to imply you caused us any trouble. We are honored to serve the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin.”

The loudness of cutlery clanging onto the table brought everyone’s attention to Stannis. The eldest omega son informed everyone he would be at the training grounds this morning if they needed him. “Activity will be good for my health.”

Tywin watch him push back his chair. “You should get more rest if you are feeling unwell.” 

Stannis stilled. He looked back at him in surprise. “You’ll have many sleepless nights at King’s Landing. Many ghosts haunt the halls. You might as well have your fill of slumber while you can," Tywin advised.

“Tywin,” Steffon growled. It seemed his patience had significantly waned from yesterday. He, too, was suffering from the ailments that plagued the members of his family. “My wife is right. It is your _abrupt _arrival that has disturbed us so.” Lady Baratheon made an embarrassed noise. Robert watched his mother turn red. “It is poor judgment to make suggestions without thought.”

“How wise of you to say so,” Tywin said dryly. “Regardless, my advice was not unfounded. King’s Landing is not a place for the weak—”

Steffon turned to Stannis and nodded. “Go.” Their father’s fist balled up, and for a fantastical moment, Robert wondered if this would turn into a physical altercation. It would be a grand sight to see—two of the kingdom’s greatest warriors at arms with each other, but alas, the two stayed in place. Robert supposed it was most important to have words with Lord Tywin without Stannis’ presence. Their father was still under the impression that Stannis was ignorant of his plans.

Tywin didn’t relent. He kept talking, speaking a touch faster so Stannis could hear. “I am offering my advice as both a father and as the Hand of the king. There are many surprises offered up in court. If he cannot handle my presence, there’s not much faith in him baring heirs with such frailty.”

“I’m not frail.”

Stannis turned away from the door. The room was uncomfortably silent. Everyone watched to see what would happen. 

"I am not frail," Stannis repeated. "I did not sleep well, so I am getting some activity that would serve my wellbeing. That is not a sign of weakness." 

Tywin then responded, “I see.” He got up from his seat as well.

“Tywin—”

“My son probably yearns for the sword as well. You can showcase your skill together,” Tywin suggested. “Show me.”

Stannis stifled down an odd, choked noise in his throat. He agreed and led the Hand towards the training room. Everyone forgot their meals and followed. The sight was odd. It was the first time since Tywin’s wife died that he allowed an omega to walk beside him.

“Your father tells me you’re a student of strategy.”

Stannis’ back straightened. “I believe it worth reading about, though it would pale in comparison to the actual battle.”

“How intuitive of you.” Tywin’s praises never seemed entirely genuine or false. He spoke like they were facts and could make conquering a city sound like a weather forecast. “How familiar are you with the War of the Ninepenny Kings?”

Stannis grimaced. He didn’t look at Lord Tywin as he answered. “It started in 260, as a conflict between a group of criminals from the Free Cities called the Band of Nine and Westeros. The Band of Nine supported Maelys I Blackfyre, the last of the Blackfyre Pretenders, and who believed he was a claimant to the iron throne.”

“Good,” Tywin agreed. “Name me some notable commanders who fought for the Seven Kingdoms.”

Stannis thought for a moment. “Lord Roger Reyne, Lord Quellon Greyjoy, Ser Gerold Hightower…Ser Jason Lannister…” Stannis shot his father a cautious glance. “Lord Ormund Baratheon.”

“Your grandfather.”

“Yes.”

“He did not survive the war.”

Stannis swallowed. “He did not.”

“King Jaehaerys sent his army to the Stepstones after the Band of Nine had taken over. He wanted to command his forces himself, but Lord Osmund, his Hand, persuaded him otherwise.” Tywin him otherwise.  
“How was he killed?”

Steffon made a noise behind them. Stannis did not stop looking forward.

“He was struck down by Maelys Blackfyre.”

“And then he died in your father’s arms,” Tywin finished, and not kindly. For a second, Robert got angry at the dismissal towards his father, when Tywin added that, “Lord Osmund saved the king’s life. The king was not a warrior, and if Maelys could strike him down, the king would have fallen like a straw doll. It was a heroic act, and more so for your father, who continued to fight despite being a squire.”

Robert looked at his father, who had an unreadable expression. Tywin continued his question. “The Band of Nine had nine commanders. Who were they?” 

Stannis frowned. He thought for a moment. “Maelys Blackfyre,” Stannis started with the obvious choice, or else it would be all the more embarrassing if he forgot. “The Old Mother, Samarro Saan, Nine Eyes.” Robert smiled, because it figured that Stannis remembered the pirates first. He wouldn’t admit it, but Stannis adored the stories of pirates—especially when they received their just desserts. “Ser Derrick Fossoway, Spotted Tom…” the two former Westori citizens, “Uh…Liomond Lashare…” There were two left, but no matter how much Stannis struggled, he couldn’t put his finger on it. He was never good with foreign names.

This was why Robert, who’d been listening in with a keen ear, couldn’t help himself. “Xhobar Qhoqua and Aleguo Adarys.”

The two of them stopped walking. They turned around to face Robert. The heir to Storm’s End coughed at the newfound attention, before replacing his embarrassment with a charming, silly smile. “You were missing those two. Xhobar Qhoqua was an exiled prince who founded a sellsword company—he died during the war, but Adarys never came to Westeros. Instead, he ruled Tyrosh until his queen poisoned him.”

Neither Stannis nor Tywin wasted much time staring. “Well,” Tywin said evenly. “I suppose it’s fortunate for Lord Stannis that he has an alpha he can count on when his memory proves _inferior_.”

The two resumed their walk. Robert could see before they turned around that Stannis was _fuming_.

Tywin seemed content with the best Stannis had to offer, and their walk continued while Stannis was still shaking. Robert watched him build up the courage to respond, and finally, he told Lord Tywin that he couldn’t remember all the names of commanders or the people who died or the ones that didn’t. “But I know what I would have done differently to win.”

Tywin glanced over at him in curiosity as Stannis continued. 

“The war consisted of many battles on land and sea, but the battle that decided the outcome of the war occurred on the Stepstones where my grandfather was killed. The king was alone without his best warriors in the capital. He sent his army to the Stepstones to take the war to them, and like a fool, Maelys and his companions took the challenge. They should have split up their men. King’s Landing’s naval force was weak, and his best commander at sea was taking his longships to the tides of the Stepstones and the Undisputed Lands. Had they been wiser, the pirates should have sacked King’s Landing, thus forcing the Targaryen armies at the Stepstones to either divide and return to King’s Landing or stay and risk the fall of the capital. Regardless, it would have weakened the kingdom for the future, and allowed them to gain the upper hand later in the war.”

“You think a handful of pirates would have stood a chance against King’s Landing’s army, even at its weakest?”

“I think the key to a throne is the crown on a king,” Stannis replied. “Sack the capital, kill the guards and the soldiers, until you can get to the king and his heirs.”

“You wouldn’t show mercy?”

“It's war," Stannis replied. "Living with the dishonor of being defeated by pirates would be crueler. Better to let them die with honor.”

Tywin nodded, whether it was approval or acceptance was unknown. Eventually, they reached the training room. As soon as they walked in, the two separated, and never spoke to each other again. Steffon took his place next to his son’s side and asked that he allow Jaime and Robert to fight first. Annoyance crossed Stannis’ features, but he agreed without complaint. 

Meanwhile, Robert listened to his father talk about King’s Landing and his experience there. He spoke loudly, as if he wasn’t hiding his intentions from Stannis, and the conversation was so lighthearted no one would have thought anything was underhanded. It was not until the conversation drifted to the prince did Robert’s hackles rise.

Prince Rhaegar’s description was favorable, if not a tad generic. Intelligent, his father told him, and excelled at anything at which he put his mind to—Steffon praised the prince’s determined nature and celebrated such a trait as what made him a highly skilled knight and musician. Though he was older than Stannis by several years, he was brave and noble, and would be kind to Stannis when he arrived.

After Robert’s father spoke, Jaime Lannister snorted. He was selecting his sword next to Robert and seemed no more please by the prince’s praise than Robert. Jaime noticed his expression and looked away.

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

Jaime paused. He glanced over at his sister, who was sitting in silence beside her father. “He’s not the prince everyone thinks he is. People fawn over him, calling him the savior of the kingdom, but it’s undeserved.”

Robert smiled at the younger boy. “Sounds like you’re envious.”

Jaime glared at Robert. “I’m not,” he defended. He picked his weapon. “You should be wary. Everyone wears a mask.” 

Robert kept looking for a better choice of steel. “Stannis doesn’t. He is not like other omegas.” Not like Jaime’s sister, whose venom was sweet, coursed through her veins and pumped underneath her golden skin ready to be spat out. “No one is like Stannis.” Robert smiled at his many memories of Stannis’ defiance, from the moments he struck Robert hard enough to bleed to all those times he’s touched Robert enough to come before running out of the room. “He’s not simple enough to be swayed by a pretty boy with a harp.”

“Well,” Jaime drawled out. “Let’s see if you say that when the prince is plowing through your brother’s thighs.”

Red covered Robert’s vision. He grabbed Jaime by the scruff and lifted him off the ground for a brief moment in his brief moment to pull him in. He heard the boy was a skilled swordsman, but Robert feared nothing. Their size difference was never more astounding as Robert threatened him to watch his mouth. In a few years, the boy would grow as fearsome as his father. Until then, Robert thought it wise to teach him a lesson about talking about one’s sibling when there was no blade in his hand.

“Jaime!” Cersei shrieked.

Robert did not let go until his name was bellowed by his father. Finally, the two alphas gave each other another stare down, and Robert let go. Without looking away, Robert grabbed a sword of the table and gestured his head towards the sparring area. “Come. Let’s settle this there." He smiled as he prepared to teach this cub that a golden mane didn't equal a crown. 

Robert won the fight. No one was surprised by the result, and Tywin was satisfied enough by his son’s performance not to be upset by the lost. This is what infuriated Robert so much—that the fight was hard to win. It was clear Jaime Lannister was talented—perhaps prodigious in his skill. He was younger than Robert by several years, half his size, and fought as well as some of Robert’s older companions.

One day, Robert thought, as Jaime’s sister ran over to wipe the sweat from his face, he would have watched his back.

The Lannisters behaved themselves until their departure. Tywin never spoke to or about Stannis again, at least not where both brothers could hear. When they got ready for their dismissal, every Baratheon was there to see them off, including his mother, who held little Renly in her arms so they could wave them goodbye together.

Everyone was careful to hide their relief. Steffon hugged his friend. As they parted Tywin told him that he looked forward to seeing him back in King’s Landing. “Your blood is meant to rule beside a king,” Tywin told him. “Let us hope you return to the council soon.”

Tywin leaned in close and whispered something in Steffon’s ear. The words made Robert’s father tense, but then he patted Tywin on the shoulder and wished him a safe journey. He wasn't smiling any longer. Tywin nodded, and then looked at Stannis.

“I look forward to your presence in court.”

Tywin did not wait for a response. He climbed on top of his steed and started to ride as the gates opened for the King’s Road. As the family watched them leave, Stannis turned to his father.

“He keeps mentioning me coming to court.”

Steffon became uncomfortable, as did their mother. The Lord and Lady Baratheon shared a look, as they thought about ways to explain their plans without revealing what Stannis already knew.

Fortunately for them, Stannis was kinder than they gave him credit for. “Let’s not disappoint him,” Stannis announced. He turned as he walked back to the castle. “I want to go to King’s Landing.”

***

Stannis spent the next few weeks preparing for his departure. The timing was good, for the heavy rains had arrived in the stormlands, and there was little to do outdoors. Today, in particular, the storms would be especially fierce. The rumbling skies were loud enough to knock a maid off her stride, and the barest touch of flesh was electric. All the free time made sure Stannis’ supplies were diligently packed, and whatever he wore now were items to be abandoned as soon as he was gone. Robert’s education of Storm’s End was expediated to a near overwhelming degree, but much to maester’s surprise, Robert adapted.

“I forget how capable you are,” Maester Cressen muttered, not one to mince words with Robert. If his shock was meant to offend Robert, it didn’t.

Robert looked up from his desk. He was going over the numbers from last year that their steward left for practice. “It used to infuriate Stannis when I played the fool, and then performed better than him.” Robert chuckled, recalling Stannis’ stubborn insistence that Robert must have cheated, or he had studied more than he left on. Many believed Stannis’ introverted nature was a result of his precocious mind, while Robert’s rashness and immaturity meant he was the foolish brother. Much to the chagrin of Stannis, and their parents and maesters, this was not the case. Stannis’ insecurities came from Robert’s superiority in many subjects, from his swordsmanship to his grip on strategy. Robert wasn’t stupid; he merely did his bare minimum to pass and avoid admonishment. In his mind, there was no point in excelling in imaginary topics when he could live the battles in person. 

Maester Cressen sighed. “It looks like you won’t have many problems manning Storm’s End on your own.”

“Then, I wouldn’t have Stannis spending half his days critiquing my performance.” Robert shook his head. “How cruel would it be to take that joy from him?”

“You should stop being so kind,” the maester said dryly. “He will be gone sooner than you think, and you will only have yourself for entertainment.”

Robert was about to reply that he would never be alone for entertainment when the truth hit him. He looked around and saw that there was nothing of his brother in the room. Cressen had gifted Stannis his favorite books on maps and figures last week, and Stannis had not returned to select anymore in fear of excess and slow travels. Their lives were mapped out for them. Stannis was leaving Storm’s End. Robert Baratheon would be the acting Lord of Storm’s End. Stannis would be in court, being courted by the prince. Robert would be alone.

Another thunderous clap in the skies alerted the pair to the worse of the storm. Outside the room, they could hear the stampede of servants rushing through the halls. Robert ran to the door. A soldier, spotting him, alerted him to an incoming ship.

“The watchmen spotted a ship carrying the Tyroshi flag! Their hull has already struck the rocks!”

It was a tradition in Storm’s End to provide service for the ships. All sorts of people, from merchants to nobles, traveled to the stormlands. Many were unprepared for the weather that welcomed them, especially when they choose to travel during the current season. Shipwreck Bay was often the final resting place for these travelers. Many residents leave their homes to watch them drown in the seas, in a sick form of entertainment while other, able-body men and women swarm the beaches to salvage the survivors.

From the looks of it, the current crash belonged to traders. Lord Baratheon was fair in this regard. Whether they were merchants or slavers, they would receive aid until their purpose could be determined. Robert didn’t wait for permission from Maester Cressen. He followed the soldiers to the shipwreck site.

Torrential rain plagued Storm’s End and struck down the waters like swords into men’s hearts. Water was as thick and sharp as hail pounded onto the people and wore down the rocks like a mason chipping at a statute. The sky was black, except for the violent, cracks of lightning that pierced through it. Robert went to the cliff first, where he saw that Stannis was already present. Mud and filth were everywhere. People were struggling with their scopes to find a semblance of life in the waters. The ship had just crashed. There was nothing by planks in the water, ripped apart like they were paper. Stannis was yelling at everyone to search harder and told another soldier not to abandon them, for there was still a chance.

“There’s still time!” Stannis shouted at them. “This is not the worst of our storms, you coward! I will not let your incompetence lead to their deaths!”

Robert watched him try to inspire his father’s soldiers as they considered abandoning a lost cause. There were no bodies in sight. It was best they wait for the storm to finish to salvage the remains. But Stannis wouldn’t allow it, and he couldn’t convince them otherwise. He was too angry. Too critical. He sounded desperate instead of inspirational. 

But to Robert, Stannis was beautiful and strong; stubborn as an ox, but he was honest and true and honorable. He was someone Robert wanted by his side. 

“Don’t leave,” Robert told him. 

“What?” Stannis turned around. To Robert’s surprise, the heir walked closer to Stannis with each thought of admiration towards his brother. They were within earshot and despite the cries of their people and the storm raging above them, they could hear each perfectly. “Robert, we need to focus!”

“I don’t care,” Robert said without thinking. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Stannis stared at him in shock. The rain got worst. Lightning lit up the skies, strong enough to knock a man off balance. There was pure chaos surrounding them, and yet Stannis’ focus completely redirected onto Robert.

“I don’t want to rule Storm’s End without you.”

Stannis’ mouth gaped out. Before he could think of a response, a soldier from afar cried out, “There’s someone in the water!”

Stannis glanced at the ocean, and there the figure was, his silver wares silver floating to the surface before another wave pushed him underneath the water. Robert knew what was going to happen before Stannis did. The older Baratheon reached out to grab his brother, but Stannis was too fast. He jumped off the cliff and dived straight into the sea.

***

Stannis was not a braggart, but he was rightly proud of his swimming ability. Whether it was because of his smaller stature, or constant practice, swimming was the sole skill he outperformed Robert in.

He knew that the chaos of a storm started at the sea’s surface. Harsh winds blew against the water, creating waves, and as the waves grew taller, they developed more area for the winds to press again, which in turn enrages the tides even more. At the beginning of the storm, the waters below are not yet affected. The water below each wave move in a circular motion, which sets off another, small circle below it and could end up capturing and killing whatever life trapped within its whirlpool.

The trick, therefore, was simply to swim to land as soon as possible. It was a simple solution but effective if done right. The shimmer of silver caught Stannis’ attention as soon as he opened his eyes. He swam towards the body as fast as he could and took the man in his arms. He tried his best to swim a great distance forward underneath the sea before peeking into the surface for more air. He could not do it often. He needed to get to land as soon as possible, and the man himself needed to be resuscitated before it was too late. In one final attempt of air, Stannis pushed his head up, swallowed as much air as he could and went back down.

Stannis swam until his limbs hurt, and the body weighing on him was not light either. Fortunately, the cliff he dived from was not far from a small enclave behind the rocks, which blocking most of the waves. Stannis was grateful his instincts led him to the area. It could be seen from the castle, and there was a portion carved out to resemble stairs if people needed access.

Stannis didn’t waste time to call for help. He placed the man on his back and checked for breathing. Though the heartbeat was low, and the gasps were short, it was enough evidence for Stannis that he could be saved. He clasped his hands together and pushed hard and fast onto the center of the man’s chest. He did this several times, remembering the rhythm that maester Cressen taught him. When Stannis was finished, he tilted the man’s head back and lifted his chin, before laying his lips onto the stranger. He blew inside once and was on his second try when the man released the water from his mouth.

The man opened his eyes, and Stannis was too overwhelmed with the events to admire the beauty of those violet orbs. He was simply too relieved to see the man had not died in his arms. As he tried to ask if the man was alright—as was the standard, the beautiful stranger took ahold of his head and pressed their lips together in a kiss.

At that moment, Robert arrived at the enclave to see the results of Stannis’ heroism. He watched the kiss from afar and he never wanted to kill someone more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back. It's been a while. Quarantine was not great for me writing-wise. I was busy with other responsibilities but some of them are over now which is how I was able to get this done. Looking forward to more reading and writing in the future!
> 
> The hardest thing about writing in the past is figuring out characters before their experiences made them who they are in the series. Tywin and Aerys and Steffon were supposed to be good friends when they were children, but Tywin and Aerys grew more apart, especially after Steffon's death (in which Aerys accused Tywin of killing - despite it being obvious that it was a storm and completely an accident) and it made me think about how Steffon and Tywin's relationship was. Were they still close when it became clear Steffon was siding with Aerys? Or were Tywin and Steffon closer because they had to work together on the council to save the kingdom from their mad king? It's weird to write Tywin as someone who did have friends, who still had so much power and the health and commanding ability to fight. 
> 
> Secondly, even though Robert is depicted as nothing more than a great warrior and even called stupid, he was a good commander, a good strategist, and it's written than he was "better than Stannis" at almost everything, which naturally would include studies. Robert wasn't stupid, and I wanted to show that in this chapter. 
> 
> We're going to move the plot further along in the next chapter. Some of you might know I have a very distinct opinion of Rheagar and I really like writing him with that opinion in mind. 
> 
> Anyway, stay safe and healthy.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me tell you something about my stupid ass. I honestly thought I could finish this whole story in three chapters. I have literally cut this chapter in half twice, and it went from a 3-part series to 5 to 6 (likely 7) chapters. This 7000+ word chapter was literally half an outline that was the half of another outline. So yes, read and enjoy. Please comment, as this is my only GoT work for the upcoming future (until January). 
> 
> Here are my social media handles. If I plan on posting a chapter late, twitter will be your main source of finding out. Otherwise, I have a website for my original work. 
> 
> Twitter: [@sometimesimeow](https://twitter.com/sometimesimeow)  
Literary Website: [Murder at the Cathouse](http://www.murderatthecathouse.com)  



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